Harry Potter and the Hero's Prize
by Clavyus
Summary: Post-war fic, begins in the first Halloween after the Battle of Hogwarts. Some romance, a little drama, a little adventure, maybe some lemons. After all his pain, a hero deserves a little reward. Harry and Fleur endgame, maybe someone more.
1. Chapter 1

Post-war fic, begins in the first Halloween after the Battle of Hogwarts. Some romance, a little drama, a little adventure, maybe some lemons. After all his pain, a hero deserves a little reward. Harry and Fleur endgame, maybe someone more. I don't own Harry Potter, or any part of it.

Chapter 1

 **Harry**

I'm walking slowly towards the great hall, feeling both sad and worried. Sad, because it's been seventeen years today since a psychopath murdered my parents. Worried because, ever since, Halloween has been... unlucky. As I approach the ongoing feast, I can smell roast meats mingling with other indistinct, mouthwatering smells. I can also hear the noise of carefree conversation. The monster is dead, almost six months ago. There is still fear. Pureblood bigotry and the fear of muggle power and cleverness still threatens to fracture our world. There are monsters left in the loose, trying to use fear to their own ends. I walk ever slower, trying to find, in my Gryffindor heart, the courage to face friend, foe and everyone else. I'm Harry Potter, eighteen-year-old, dark lord slayer, head of two ancient magical houses, quiddich seeker, Ginny's somewhat reluctant boyfriend and seventh year student of magical arts and crafts at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

As I step through the doors of the Great Hall, I feel, or hear, a slight pop next to me. I look down at the small figure, about three feet tall, wearing a white apron over a light green dress. She is anxiously wringing her hands. This can't be good. I lower myself to one knee in front of her, and hold her by the shoulders, whispering.

"Calm down, Winky. What is it?"

"Master Harry, Sir. It's Mistress Tonks. She don't get up. She don't eat. Master Teddy cries, and she don't come. She sent me away. She threatens clothes, master. Clothes! I is worried. Can Master come?"

My heart breaks a little. Andromeda has been a pillar of strength, caring for Teddy and helping me through the aftermath. I've been suspecting much of the strength is pride, covering up her own broken spirit. "Of course." I can see how conflicted Winky is about leaving the house and coming here. Her initiative is both unexpected and commendable. "Thank you for warning me. You're a good, clever elf, Winky"

She instantly relaxes and gives me a shy smile. "Thank you, Master Harry."

House elves are powerful beings, but they need their wizards. Not only for the symbiotic magic. There is an element of emotional support they require just as much, for sanity and a measure of happiness.. I squeeze her thin shoulders a bit, in what I hope is a little reassurance. "I'll be there shortly. Go home and take care of Teddy."

She steps back and bows. "Right away, Master Harry."

I stand up and sigh. The room is suddenly silent, so everyone can hear the slight pop as Winky apparates away. I turn to the Gryffindor table, and catch Hermione's eyes. She is showing a bit of concern. I mouth silently to her. "Andy." She nods and mimics a telephone with her hand, meaning "Keep in touch." I nod, look at Ginny and blow her a kiss. She frowns, bothered by my silent dialogue with Hermione. I think Mione and I keep our wordless communication going, at least in part, to annoy the younger Weasleys.

I walk towards the staff table, wondering to myself for the hundredth time why I'm still with Ginny. I actually know the answer perfectly well. I find the fiery little redhead very sexy. Also, I don't want to hurt her and I'm afraid that if I break up with her I'll lose all the Weasleys, including eventually Hermione. The flip side is that I'm not really sure she even likes me. She loves the Riddle-slayer, sure. Broken, burned out, emotionally stunted Harry? Maybe not so much.

"Headmistress."

"What is it, Mr. Potter?"

"I need to leave the grounds. Family business." There is a specific allowance in the rules for adult students to leave the grounds as needed. As I'm head of house, I'm not even required to disclose the reason.

"Do you know when you'll be back?"

"Breakfast tomorrow, I hope."

She purses her lips, clearly irritated by my reticence. I'm not about to expose Andromeda's personal life to the Hogwarts population. "Very well, Mr. Potter. Make sure you let me know if you need more time."

I nod. "By your leave, Headmistress."

Without waiting for an answer, I turn around and walk fast towards the double doors. I hear her mumbling behind me. "Just get out of here you insufferable..." the remainder of her sentence is drowned by the noise of resumed conversation.

Ahead, a small redhead stands on my way, perky b-cups pushed out under the robes, her delicate fists planted firmly on her hips, eyes ablaze. I feel my hormones reacting. Sexy indeed. "Harry James mhpf..." I grab her by the waist, using my own momentum to turn her around and bend her back, as I hold the back of her head and plant a kiss right on her open lips. She stiffens, outraged by my unexpected, and deeply out-of-character forwardness. As my tongue invades her open mouth, she responds, finally forgetting whatever diatribe was about to begin and melting in my arms. Her hands grab the back of my head. She definitely enjoys the kiss. Around us, catcalls and wolf whistles greet our little spectacle.

After about thirty seconds of bliss, I hear a stern voice raised behind me. "Mr. Potter! Such public displays..." I pull away, whisper in Ginny's ear "Bye" and walk out the door at my fastest pace. Action before thought. It should be the Gryffindor motto.

+O+O+O+O+

The Tonks residence is a beautiful muggle home, two-story contemporary-style, with gray roof and white walls with red brick trimmings. It's located in an affluent suburb of Birmingham. At the edge of the front lawn, a line of bushes and a notice-me-not charm hides the apparition point from the street.

I plant my feet, waiting half a second for the knotted feeling from the apparition to fade away. Walking towards the front door, the faint tingling from the wards serves as warning to visitors, specially unwelcome ones. The front door is muggle-locked, and I use my key to let myself in. For months now, this has been my home, at least when I'm away from Hogwarts.

Angry crying greets me. At eight months, Teddy is a strong baby, with mercurial temperament that easily switches from bubbly to stormy and back. Like his mother, he's a full metamorphmagus. He is not a werewolf. I've learned since that such babies always die in the womb, often taking the mother with them. He is clearly moon-touched, though. Keen senses and a wild streak already noticeable even at his young age, plus a nasty temper around the full moon. Not the easiest child to raise. I mutter half-incantations to myself, wondering for the hundredth time what those two idiots were thinking, and thanking heaven for the amazing gift their idiocy left behind.

Next to the kitchen, a small room serves as playroom, with soft plush carpeting, a large bookcase with toys, small plastic furniture and a latch-on gate. Inside, Winky is kneeling next to Teddy, slowly running her fingers through his light green hair. Teddy is alternating between loud angry crying and tired whimpering. I kneel next to them and pick him up. He cuddles up, seeking warmth or the comfort of familiar scent and magic. He buries his face on my chest and sniffles. My voice holds a soft undertone that belong wholly to him. "Hey."

I hold him close and turn to Winky. "When did he eat last?"

She gets up and twists her hands. "Little wolfie is supposed to eat two hours ago, Master Harry. Doesn't take it. Too upset, he was."

"Can you give me a warm bottle, please?"

After feeding, Teddy gets sleepy. I take the time to give him a bath. Then I dress him in an Alice in Chains onesie I found in a muggle shop somewhere. My nod at pleasing his mother, despite Andromeda's unspoken disapproval. He whimpers a bit when I set him down, but soon he is fast asleep, curled around his plush wolf.

I stand over the crib, watching him change into his base form. He looks like Moony, but with the high cheekbones and blade-like nose of the Blacks. Hair a dark chestnut. I'm not sure about his baseline eye color. "Sweet dreams, cub." Six months, and the loss of Moony and Tonks still feels as sharp as a diffindo to the gut.

I cover Teddy with a light blanket and run my fingers lightly through his hair. Magical children need the physical contact with their parents, even more than muggles, to encourage and smooth out their magical development, or so I've read.

I close the nursery door behind me and cross the corridor to Andromeda's door. I knock lightly. "It's Harry."

A gravelly growl is the only reply I get. I open the door slowly, wand in hand. I'm greeted by the red flash of a silent, overpowered Stupefy, followed almost instantly by flying ropes. I dodge the stunner and cast a diffindo, cutting the ropes. I dodge another spell, a nasty-looking purple curse, and cast a quick summoner at Andromeda's wand, which slips her fingers and flies into my hand.

We stare at each other. Her angry gray eyes remind me of Sirius when I first met him, after nearly a dozen years of Azkaban. Skin and bone, disheveled black hair, dirty... still quite beautiful, and way too much like her insane sister. A fancy silk black nightgown, scuffed and worn. Her hands half-curled, broken fingernails with a bit of leftover red polish, looking like bloody claws.

Her anger and her magic swirl around the stinking room like a dark miasma. The strong resemblance to Bellatrix adds a sliver of fear to my concern. Sirius told me once that Black blood comes with many gifts and a dollop of madness. I place my wand back in the wrist holster and twirl her wand around my fingers. As it often happens with wands acquired in combat, it feels like it would serve me willingly.

Her eyes follow the wand. She hisses "Give it back!" I cast a silent incarcerous, shaping the magic to tie her hands to the headboard.

I walk forward, and sit down at the edge of the bed. "You stink."

She growls, as she fights the bonds. "Get out, you pathetic little boy! And take the little monster and the stupid house elf with you. I want you all out of my house!"

I sigh. This is getting worse. "Winky."

She pops next to me, staring at Andromeda with a mixture of fear and sadness. "Master Harry?"

"Do we have draught of peace and dreamless sleep potion in the house?"

Andromeda continues growling and struggling. She might end up hurting herself, so I cast a very weak stunner, just enough to slow her down. "No potions in the house, Master."

"Please, go to Portagee Potions and buy seven doses of each. Get also a dozen nutrient potions. Use the Black vault for money."

She bows. "Right away, Master."

The effect of the stunner dissipates before Winky comes back. Her voice has become girlish. "Mommy?" She seems lost. I read in one of the auror manuals that stunning people with mental problems should be avoided, because it can make them worse.

I touch her ankle. "Your mommy is not here, Andromeda."

She blinks, looking wide-eyed at me. "Who are you?" "I'm Harry."

She checks me out and giggles. "No you're not." I shake my head at the creepy dissonance. Andromeda is used to hiding her soft heart with sharp words and cold demeanor. I'm truly sorry to see her reduced in such a demeaning way. At least she is not channeling Bellatrix' evil little girl act. In fact, she sounds sweet.

I smile. "I swear I'm really Harry."

She giggles some more. "You're cute."

"Well, thank you. So are you."

She smiles coquettishly and tries to bring her hands to her hair. Then she notices she can't. She looks at her hands and frowns. "Why?" The smile disappears and she looks down. "I was bad."

"No you weren't, dear. But you were going to hurt yourself."

She whispers. "Please let me go. I promise I'll behave."

I dispel the ropes. She sits up, rubbing her wrists. "Thanks. Is Bella here?" She looks around. "Is this your home?"

"Bella is not here. And this is your home."

She looks at me with a puzzled expression. Muggles call this a fugue state, where the injured mind retreats back into childhood. She desperately needs a mind healer, but there's only two of those in Magical Britain. One is untrustworthy and the other has her hands beyond full. I should try to bring one from the continent. I hadn't done it yet because previous breakdowns weren't this bad. Before she can reply, Winky pops back with a polished wooden box in her hand. Andromeda startles a little.

"This is Winky"

Andromeda smiles at the little elf. "Hello, Winky. Nice to meet you."

I speak fast, before Winky can reply. I'm not sure how Andromeda would react to being called 'Mistress Tonks'. "Miss Black is a little better, Winky."

"I'm happy to hear it, Master Harry." She curtsies to both of us, places the wooden box on top of a dresser and leaves. Clever elf.

I open the box and take out two potions: nutrient and peace. Store-bought nutrient potions actually taste fruity, so I begin with that. I open the little bottle and extend it to Andromeda.

She scrunches her face and shakes her head. "No..."

"It doesn't taste bad."

She stops and looks at me. "You sure?"

"Yup."

She smiles and upends it, licking her lips afterwards. "Nice."

"Good girl. Now this one. It's a little bitter, but you will feel good afterwards."

I give her the bottle. She looks dubiously at the little flask. "Can you pinch my nose?"

"Sure."

She downs the second potion and makes a face. Slowly, all tension leaves her body, her eyes unfocused and a goofy smile takes over her face. She giggles. "That feels nice." She cuddles up against my chest and plays with the buttons of my shirt. I wrap my arms around her. I let both of us relax for a few minutes, feeling my own overworked nerves settle down a bit. It's oddly comforting, holding her.

We'd become close, Andromeda and I. Her quiet, competent way, stinging wit and hidden warmth suits my own broody manner very well. I've been aware of the cesspit of sadness and loss behind her brittle facade. Now, for Teddy and for myself, I just hope I can help her come back. I whisper in her ear. "You're kinda stinky."

She sniffles a bit. "No I'm not."

"You are. You need a bath."

"Aww. Allright."

She hops out of my arms and starts to take off her camisole. "You help me?"

I hold down her arms before she gives me a full view. "I'll ask Winky to help you."

She pouts. I catch a glimpse of the adorable little girl she once was. "I'll brush you hair afterwards, allright?"

Several months sharing a tent with Hermione taught me a few things about girls and what they need. "Okay."

"Winky"

She pops next to me. "Master Harry?"

"Miss Black needs a bath. Would you please help her?"

"Right away Master Harry."

Winky picks up Andromeda's hand and walks her to the ensuite while she giggles. "Harry says 'please' to you."

"Master Harry is a very kind wizard, Miss Black"

More giggles as the door closes. "He's cute."

I use the bath time to do a little housecleaning. Open the windows and use a wind spell to generate a breeze. Remove the soiled bedding. A little freshening charm on the mattress, thanks to Hermione's copy of One-hundred-and-one Household Charms & Spells. Then fresh bedding and a little magical dusting.

I take out a flask of dreamless sleep potion from the box, and replace it with Andromeda's wand. casting a locking charm. To one side of the room, there's an antique vanity and a broad stool with soft red velvet upholstery. I find a charmed hair brush inside one of the drawers.

Her hair is a luscious dark chestnut, falling in waves right down to her buttocks. A glorious mane, badly in need of care. Without the untangling charm on the brush, this would be an impossible job. As it is, little girl Andromeda is softly humming to herself, as I count strokes. From the roots, all the way down, careful with the tangles, and repeat.

She is sitting on the stool looking at her reflection as I stand behind her. Somewhere between strokes fifty and sixty, her shoulders stiffen and the humming stops. I look at her face in the mirror, and I see fresh tear tracks down her face.

Her voice is but a whisper, but fully adult. "Ted?"

Fuck. "I'm Harry."

After a short hesitation, I continue brushing. She ignores me. "What's happening, love?" She sounds sad and lost.

"What do you mean?"

"She didn't come home last night."

I think I can guess who "she" is. "Wherever she is, I'm sure she is fine." Not a complete lie.

She turns shrill. "She's just fourteen! She can't just up an leave! Oh, Merlin!" She starts sobbing.

"What is it?"

"We had a horrible fight last night."

"I'm sure it's going to turn out fine."

"It won't!" She shakes her head. "She said some horrible things."

"I'm sure she didn't mean it. She loves you."

"Oh, Ted, I'm so sorry. She got under my skin and I totally lost it." She pauses and her voice goes down to a whisper. "I slapped her, Ted. I was so angry... I hit our little girl."

The pain, and the love in her voice... I suddenly realize things between the tightly wound aristocratic mother and the bubbly rebel daughter couldn't possibly have been very easy.

At the back of my mind, I've been figuring that both Andromeda and I needed some time to heal, and afterwards I'd be stepping back some. Maybe a frequent visitor. A favorite uncle to Teddy. I've been deceiving myself. Even if Andromeda recovers fully, she will need serious hands on help handling a growing marauder, metamorph, moon touched cub. I guess it will be all the way in, then. Half-formed plans of getting away from this god-forsaken, rainy island and seeing a bit of the the world will have to go on the back burner.

I set the issue aside and turn back to Andromeda, who is just staring at me. "You will apologize and she will come around. You'll see."

"I don't think so. You didn't see her face. She just turned around and left. And she didn't come back."

I set the brush on top of the vanity and help Andromeda to the bed. "You're very tired. I pick up the potion flask and hand it to her. Take this. It will help you sleep. I'll try to find Dora. I bet the Weasleys know where she is."

She drinks the potion. I tuck her in. "That Charlie..." Her eyes begin to close.

"He's a good boy."

"He's not right. Not right..." And she's asleep. Ten to twelve hours. I think I saw a friendly looking bottle of single malt downstairs...

 **Hermione**

It's two second-year boys on the ground, a skinny blonde puff straddling a pudgy dark-haired snake. The boy on the bottom is holding the top boy's arms, trying to avoid getting punched, while the boy on top is trying to get his arms free, with the presumed intention of punching. Five other children are standing around in a circle, egging them on.

I use my best McGonagall voice. "Against the wall, all of you!"

The spectators freeze up. One of them thinks about running, but looks at my face and changes his mind. After a few seconds, they obey, leaving the two pugilists still struggling on the floor. I summon the top fellow with a wordless spell, holding him by the arm, and cast a sticking charm on the boy on the floor. The boy I'm holdng continues struggling, so I push him against the wall and cast another sticking charm.

All seven are talking at the same time. There's a dark wood wand near the boy on the ground which I summon. It feels slimy and hostile.

I use Harry's little trick, pushing a little unfocused power out. "Silence!" They shut up. I point my wand at the boy on the floor. "You! Name."

He gives me a dark look. "Althus Avery, Miss Granger."

I sigh. It's the old story. "What happened?"

"This... filth bumped into me on purpose when my friend and I were getting back to the dungeons. When I complained, he attacked me."

I try to keep the loathing out of my voice. "All right. Enough."

I turn to the boy stuck to the wall. This one has a star-struck look. "Sean McFarlane, m'am. I was distracted going around the corner and bumped him by accident. I was going to apologize, but he started screaming abuse. He called me a filthy mudblood, among other things. I said he was an inbred moron and a death-eater wannabe. He started pulling his wand and I jumped him. That's the truth, m'am."

"It's a lie! The mud..." I turn to him, my wand pointing at him, the tip turning red and he swallows what he was going to say. I cast a silencio on the boy, mostly to avoid him digging himself a deeper hole.

I look straight into the eyes of the other Slytherin kid, a cute brunette with freckles. "What's your name?"

"A-A-Amy Fletcher, m'am."

"Did Mr. Avery use the 'M' word, Miss Fletcher?"

She looks at the boy on the floor, trying to decide who she fears the most. "Eh... Ah..."

I raise my voice a bit and catch a little with surface legilimency. "Did he?"

"Ahh... Yes m'am"

She's telling the truth. I feel a little dirty, peeking into her mind like that. I look at the other four bystanders. "Do you agree?" Nods all around. "Anything to add?" Six head shake in unison. I pull my magic in. "As you know, this racist epithet has been banished from our school. The penalties for using it are severe. You five. Ten point deduction each, and one day detention with your head of House for your omission. Now, straight to your common room."

The five walk away as fast as they can. I cancel the sticking charm on the boy at the wall. "Mr. McFarlane. My regards to Professor Sprout. Please inform her of this incident and tell her I recommend a twenty-five point deduction and a three-day detention for fighting."

He stands straight and blushes, still looking star-struck despite the harsh punishment. "Right away, m'am."

I turn to the boy on the ground, casting a finite, to cancel both the sticking charm and the silencio. He stands up and I examine him. He's scuffed, and has a tear in his robes, but seems otherwise intact.

I feel like placing the boy on my knees and spanking him. Hard. "Mr. Avery. You're with me."

I walk fast towards the Astronomy Tower, the short second year struggling to follow me. At the door of Prof. Sinistra's door there is a painting of a winged cherubim holding a gold cup. I show the painting my badge and a little while later the door opens. Prof. Sinistra is a tall brunette in her early forties, with an easy smile and gentle eyes. The near opposite of her greasy predecessor. Her shoulder-length hair is loose and she's wearing a dark blue robe with moving star shapes, reminding me a bit of Dumbledore.

Her smile disappears when she notices I'm not alone. Her voice takes an icy tone. "Mr. Avery, Miss Granger. Please come in."

We walk in and stand near her, as she closes the door. "To what do I owe this visit?"

I hand her his wand, as I reply. "A hateful word used in anger and fisticuffs on a third floor corridor."

She grimaces at the wand. "Who was this word directed to?"

"Sean McFarlane."

"Ah." She gives Avery a sad look. "Are you sure, Miss Granger?"

"Six witnesses, including one of your snakes, m'am. Amy Fletcher."

"So, there is no doubt?"

I shake my head. "None."

She sits at one of her leather chairs. "Mr. Avery is a repeat offender, I'm afraid." She turns to the young boy. "You were warned, Mr Avery. The sky is about to fall on your head."

The boy mumbles. "Blood traitor scum."

Again, I swallow the impulse of spanking the boy. The professor blinks at the insult, but decides not to respond. "Be as it may, Mr. Avery. Your parents will be contacted. You will be suspended. Your wand use will be curtailed. Also, the DMLE will be notified and there will be an investigation of your family for dark objects and practices. There will be fines and possible incarceration. And remember. This is your very last chance. Do it once more and you will be expelled, your wand snapped and your magic bound. I can assure you you will not enjoy life as a muggle"

The boy gives her a hateful look but says nothing. She opens the door and lets the boy out. "Back to the dungeons with you. Bring your packed trunk when you come down for breakfast tomorrow."

She closes the door and turns back to me. "Miss Granger..." She notices the single tear coming down my face. "Oh, dear girl..."

I've known Aurora Sinistra since I was eleven. She is a great teacher and a kind witch. However, we have barely exchanged words outside her subject in all this time. I can't hide my embarrassment. "I'm sorry..."

She grabs my arm and pulls me inside, after locking her door with a wand wave. "There's nothing to be sorry about. Please, call me Rory."

I sniffle. "Hermione."

"A spot of tea? Perhaps something stronger?"

"Tea, please."

I plop down on her couch. She sits next to me, and a tray with a steaming teapot and two cups appears at the center table. "Professor..."

"Rory. How do you like your tea?"

"Plain is fine."

She pours the tea and gives me the cup. Then she pours herself one and sits in an armchair next to the sofa, reclining and crossing her legs. The little tea ritual does its magic on our British souls, and the stretched nerves begin to relax a bit.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. Do you want to talk about it?"

I sigh. "It just seems so pointless..."

The sentence trails off, as I search for words. Her voice is serene as the stars she loves so much. "It was not a war against prejudice, dear girl. It was against a madman who used prejudice as a tool."

She gets it. "I know."

"Fighting prejudice is an entirely different war."

I think of the muggle world and its long struggle. "An impossible war."

She sighs. "Hard. Not impossible. And the battlefront is right here."

I nod, calming down, and voicing something that's been at the back of my head. "I'm not sure that heavy sanctions against the use of a foul word is the answer."

She smiles. "I'm not sure either. But we are all hostages to our time."

"I don't understand."

She takes a lecturing tone. "People often look for simple solutions to complex problems. Fighting prejudice is hard. Prohibiting a word?" She shrugs. "Simple solutions look specially attractive after a time of fear and uncertainty."

I nod again, and place the empty cup at a low table. I'm tired.

"It's late. Thanks for the tea and your wisdom."

"You're welcome. Thanks for listening" A short pause as we stand up. "My door is always open."

"Thanks."

I walk slowly back to the apartment, dreaming of a long soak in my bathtub. I find a pair of redheads waiting for me outside my door.

I exchange a silent greeting with Ron, and Ginny stands in front of me. "Where is Harry?"

"Andromeda's, as far as I know."

"Do you know what happened?"

"Trouble, of course. It's Halloween. I don't know any details."

She frowns. "Damn."

Ron smirks at her.. "Patience, Gin. He'll be back tomorrow."

I'm not in the mood for more drama. "It's late. I'm going to bed. I suggest you do the same." I turn to the door and call the password. "Leontes."

The door opens. Ron grabs me by the waist as I walk by him and plants a brief kiss on my lips. "Do you want company?"

"Yes, I do, But I'd rather you two go back to the tower. I don't want either one of you walking around alone."

They exchange a glance and turn back to me, both a little offended. Ginny voices their toughts."I can take care of myself!"

"I know you can. Still..."

Ron places a placating hand on Ginny's shoulder. "It's ok."

He's very protective of Ginny, which annoys her but I rather like. I turn to Ron and give him a deeper kiss, whispering in his ear afterwards. "Come by at seven tomorrow."

Ron's face is a poem, his happiness with my implicit promise at war with his deep dislike of waking up early on a weekend. I give it a good chance that he'll show up, but at least half an hour late. "Goodnight Weasleys." They mumble their goodnights as I walk in and close my door.

 **Harry**

I don't like scotch. It's acrid, it burns going down and the fumes make me want to sneeze. I get the point, though. I can feel my nerves unwinding a bit. As I get a little light headed, I conclude that using a wand under the influence should probably be illegal. A quick "Tempus" shows a quarter to ten. Winky popped up at Hogwarts half past six, but these three hours and a bit feel like a week. A long one. It's Halloween, what can I say...

I get up, place the empty tumbler on the mantle and toss a pinch of floo powder at the fire. When it turns green I call "Shell Cottage". I stick my face in the flames. "Bill, Fleur?"

Pretty feet in low white sandals, followed by a squatting blonde with a big smile. "Hi, 'Arry!"

Her English has improven, but she still says my name in the same cute way. "Hi. Is it a bad time?"

"Oh, non! Perfect time. What can I do for you?"

"I need to ask a little favor."

"Oui?"

"Eh... It's a bit complicated. Can I go there?"

"Oh, bien sur. You're keyed in, just come."

She steps aside and I go. As usual, I trip coming out, and end up flat on my back.

Fleur's smile widens, as she waves her wand in a silent spell, removing the soot.

I get up. She is wearing blue shorts and a white sleeveless shirt of some soft material. She's still a little taller than me, but I no longer need to tilt up to look into her blue eyes."I really hate this..."

"You need to walk into it, like you're stepping on a fast moving walkway."

"Huh?"

"It's tricky. The floo uses a bit of your magic to push you through. The more powerful you are, the stronger the push. In your case..." She finishes the sentence with a shrug.

"Bloody hell. Really?" She nods. "Why in God's green earth nobody ever told me?"

Another Gallic shrug. "Very few people know." She frowns "God's green earth?"

"It's a muggle expression. Should I use 'Morgaine's saggy tits', or something like that instead?"

She makes a haughty expression. "Ah! You should stick to polite language when addressing a lady."

I smile "A lady?" I think of Andromeda as the lady. Fleur? Powerful, smart and quick-tempered, but not very ladylike.

Soft laughter, like silver bells. "Don't tell my mozzer, but perhaps not so much."

"Is Bill around?"

"He is working at an underwater cave near Mikonos, in Greece."

I frown. That's some people's life, I guess. Great family, head boy, sexy job overseas and Fleur's heart. I die, kill the bad guy and what I get is a load of unwanted attention, a baby and a broken woman to care for. I try to push my jealousy and bitterness away and pretend.

"Mikonos, wow!"

She smirks a little. "Yeah, wow." Her tone is a bit sarcastic. Apparently, I'm not the only one with a problem.

"It's his job, isn't it?"

"It was 'is job before the war. Zen he asked to stay in England. After you finished off ze Dark Cochon, not anymore. Now, it's two weeks around 'ere and 'e begins to get restless."

I look at her and shake my head. "Restless." Bill knows Fleur doesn't really have anyone in Britain. What's he thinking? "How long since he left?"

"A week. And still anozzer two weeks before 'e comes back."

The loneliness is pretty obvious. "I'm sorry."

Again the shrug "Ah, mon ami. C'est la vie." She pauses. "Can I 'elp you, or you need William?"

"I hope you, or your family can help me. I need a mind healer, urgently."

She frowns at me for a second, and then laughs. "You don't seem terribly unhinged."

"Not for me, silly." I wave my hands in annoyance, and she realizes I'm serious. "There's only two mind healers in Britain. One is a pureblood bigot. The other is swamped by the surviving victims of Umbridge's committee. I was hoping you, or your family, could help me find someone on the Continent."

"Who needs the healer?"

"Andromeda. She had a complete meltdown today."

"Ah." She looks down. "What kind of meltdown?"

I describe the afternoon incident. Halfway through, she places a soft hand on my shoulder, and her eyes glisten. "Oh, 'Arry."

A hug, and her allure a little out of control drive thoughts of Andromeda away for a moment. She notes the effect she is having and pulls away, a light pink blush on her cheeks. "Oh."

I'm rather embarrassed too and I try to cover it with a joke. "I'm sorry. Still a hormonal teenager."

"Eet's nothing, 'Arry. I should 'ave better control."

"You do. I haven't felt your allure in years. And it's fine to let go of your control a bit around me." Besides, a cold shower before bed should take care of it.

Whatever she is thinking, we both end up laughing at the incident. We get hold of ourselves and she gets back to business. "There is someone..."

"Who?"

"Her name is Anais Osterle. She's a close friend of my grandmozzer."

"Do you think she would come? I can pay whatever..."

"I don't know. I will 'ave to ask 'er. She lives in the veela enclave of Mairillon, near Strasbourg."

"So, she's veela."

"Oui. Is zat a problem? She's also a very respected 'ealer."

"Oh no. It sounds great." I pause for a moment. British law still affords very few rights to veela, I've learned a few things, though. "Tell her that she would be performing a great service to the Houses of Black and Potter, and she would be under the protection of both houses."

She giggles and gives me a mocking curtsy. "Yes, my Lord."

I show her my tongue. "Insufferable frenchie."

She points a finger at me "Barbaric brit."

She stops laughing after a bit. "'Arry." "What?" "What are you going to do about ze baby?"

"Andromeda and Teddy are my job." She can hear the bitterness in my tone and frowns. "I know. Some heroes explore caves in exotic locations. Others take care of babies and broken witches."

Her tone turns sharp. "Feeling a leetle sorry for yourself, per'aps?"

I make a gesture, two fingers about half an in apart. "Maybe a leetle." She giggles at me mocking her accent. "I'm allowed, I think."

"Yes you are." and a pause. "You can just drop it, you know. Nobody will zink worse of you."

My laughter is bitter. "Only myself." She smiles sadly and nods. "I owe them my sanity, Fleur. And the little boy is a handful. He needs me." I sigh "I guess I'm done with Hogwarts, though"

"Oh. Right." She frowns. "What about your NEWTs?"

"I'll revise by myself and take the exam at the Ministry, I suppose."

She presses her lips together in a thin line. "I want to 'elp."

I shake my head. "I can handle it."

"I know."

She looks determined. "I can 'elp with your studies, I can cook and clean and 'elp with ze baby and Andromeda." She shrugs and gestures at her house. "All I do is work and torment myself missing William. I think I would actually enjoy changing a few poopy nappies for a change."

I laugh, imagining fussy Fleur changing my overly enthusiastic little godson. "That's fine, Fleur. And I do have a very clever house elf helper."

"Surely you don't mean Kritcher!"

"Oh, no. Kreacher takes care of Grimmaulds Place. A girl elf called Winky. Another war victim. She's actually sane, and quite clever."

"I see."

"I'll add you to the wards. The floo is "Tonks Place." Andromeda is wandless, confined to the house and she is under a heavy potion regime. Come anytime you want. You can even stay the night, if you feel like it. There's an extra bedroom."

"I'll come after work, and stay until you kick me out."

"I'll be sure to cook you some bouillabaisse"

I get a brilliant smile. "Do it well, Mr. Potter, and you won't get rid of me anymore."

"Sounds like a plan, Mrs Weasley." And maybe I should work harder at the ninth commandment as well.

+O+O+O+

I walk down the beaten earth path between the gravestones, lighted wand in one hand, and a single white lily in the other. The night is dark and cold, and the only noise is the wind through the trees. The memory of the warmth of a small cottage by the sea, and of the beautiful woman in it, keep the chill away from my bones.

I kneel down at the gravestone and set down the flower. "Hi mum, dad." I let the silence stretch a bit, uncertain about what to say. "So much to tell... but I guess you know it all already."

I take the wand from my pocket. "Yew and phoenix feather core, thirteen and a half inches, rigid. I couldn't bring you his head, but this would do, I think."

I pull my own wand, brother to the one in front of me and wave it in a short circular motion. " _Igneous_ ". Stronger than "Incendio", the spell produces a fire intense enough to burn bone and melt most metals. Still, it takes a bit for the wand to catch fire. I keep it for a couple of minutes, and, at the end, there's only ashes and a dark stain left.

I feel a tear coming down my face. "He stole so much..."

There's a touch of magic in the air. It's near midnight on Samhain, and this is the moment where the chasm between life and death is thinnest. The sacrifice is accepted and a lightness sets on my shoulders. The feeling is that I've done right, that they are proud and I am loved.

For a while, I stay there kneeling. When I get up, I feel bone tired and cold, but more at peace, in some way, than I've ever felt.

As I turn around to walk away, I cast _lumos_ , I notice two ravens perched in a low branch nearby, looking at me. A large one, scruffy and with an eye missing and a smaller, young looking bird.

The larger bird caws loudly and pecks at the smaller one, which looks annoyed and steps sideways a bit. I feel a slight, tentative connection poking at my magic, coming from the younger bird.

I can't avoid smiling. "Hello, little one."

The larger raven caws again and flies away. The other one, which I sense is a male, looks at me sideways, in a hesitant way and makes a soft sound, like a muffled rattle. I can feel the curious, mischievous mind behind the beady eyes, my weird bird sense waking up after a long, sorrowful sleep.

The excitable little raven is a sharp contrast from the pride and quiet intelligence of my beloved snow princess. He flutters and perches on my shoulder, pecking softly at my hair.

"Are you a gift?" He caws, and I feel a subtle nod from the surrounding magic.

"Thanks mum, dad."

Tom's wand was a fitting sacrifice, and magic responds to such things, sometimes in surprising ways.

He pushes his head at my neck, and I caress him, marveling at the sleek soft feathers. "What's your name?"

He flaps his wings and caws. I laugh. "Braddock? You sure?" He nods. "Very well, then. Braddock it is."

He flies around me, as I walk out of the cemetery. Before I apparate away, I ask. "Can you find my home?" I feel his confusion, and I recall there is a complicated spell that gives birds the mail delivery magic. I sigh. Animals hate apparition.

I raise my wand and call the Knight Bus. Thankfully, I manage to sleep most of the way home, a quiet young raven squeezed between my shoulder and my head.


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks to all who favorited or reviewed and to those who are now following this. I do not own anything related to Harry Potter. Now, let's try to earn that "M" rating, shall we?

 **Chapter 2**

 **Harry**

 _...It's dark at first. I'm lying in bed, a weight on top of me. Soft hands fluttering around my face and chest. I reach out. Neck, shoulders, a soft pair of globes, with hard nibs. A little moan. I'm hard, and encased in soft, warm flesh. Moonlight from the open window. My eyes adjust. Long red hair, thin features and freckles. She moves her hips slowly, caressing and squeezing. Tight. I moan and she giggles. She changes. A little heavier, bigger breasts. Full dark hair falling around us, and a beloved face with a soft smile. She moves and moans. Changes again. Longer, thinner. Shimmering white blonde hair. Soft pink lips and high pointed breasts. The smile turns sharp, the eyes full of mischief. She moves faster. She stops and changes again. Her insides seem to caress me without moving. Big globes, like a cartoon diva and pink pixie-cut hair._

" _Wotcher, Harry." The smile in her face melt my insides._

" _Tonks, ahh..."_

 _She giggles. "Feels good, doesn't it?"_

 _The oddest sensation. "Do you have a tongue in there?"_

 _She cackles joyfully and winks. "Metamorphs are fun."_

" _I'm sure I knew that. Mmm."_

 _She laughs more. "Seriously..."_

" _Really?"_

" _Just two quick things. Thank you for taking care of them. I can't begin to express how grateful..."_

 _I smile and interrupt her. "You're doing fine."_

" _Oh, Right." She squeezes, pulsates around me. "But I would do much more, my hero. If I could."_

" _They've kept me sane. I love them both."_

" _I know." She leans forward and kisses me. Her tongue stretches, twists around mine. She tastes of cinnamon and bubblegum. We lose ourselves for a bit._

 _She sits up again, pinching her engorged nipples. "Ahh... The other thing... Going forward. It's not going to be easy. Some of it will be downright odd."_

" _Of course. I'm still Harry Potter. Fucking a dead married woman and loving it, for example?"_

 _She nods. "Right on." She quickens her pace. "You're really going to enjoy what's coming."_

" _Who's cumming?"_

" _We both are, I think."_

 _Fireworks. "Ahh.. Tonks!"_

 _She moans deeply and shudders repeatedly. Then she leans forward for another kiss.._

Light. It's morning. I'm naked and shivering. I'm covered in cum. A young raven looks at me from the windowsill, a little restless and a little hungry.

I sit up and shake my head, trying to gather myself, laughing a bit. "Give me a moment, all right?"

"Caw!"

"All right. I'm moving" I get going, a stupid grin on my face. Downright odd. I'll say.

+O+O+O+ **  
**

I'm about to say the password to Hermione's quarters when I spot a familiar figure running down the corridor. I turn in his direction as he stops next to me, out-of-breath and giving me a murderous look. I have no idea what I've done to annoy Ron, but I can't bring myself to care either. I just give him a bright smile. "Good morning, Ron. You're late, I presume."

My mocking tone sets him off. His face flushes and he tenses, hands tightening into fists. I take a half step backwards, staying in the ball of my feet and getting ready to dodge. He's got six inches and five stone on me, so getting punched by him is absolutely not on my morning plans. Luckily, he suddenly deflates, catching his temper before he can damage our friendship beyond all repair, and I relax too. "Yeah." He answers. "Good morning." He turns to the nymph on the tapestry. "Would you tell..."

I sigh. So, she still hasn't given her boyfriend the password. I whisper. "Leontes". Hermione, is sitting on her little couch, wearing a pink muggle jogging suit, hair tied in a messy ponytail, barefoot and, surprise, surprise, has her face stuck in a scary-looking book entitled 'Arithmantics and Spellcrafting". She lifts her eyes with a soft smile, which turns into a frown when she sees Ron. "You're late."

Ron looks embarrassed and mumbles "I'm sorry."

She dismisses him with a curt hand wave and turns to me with her soft smile back. By the set of her shoulders and the tightness in her voice, she's both tense and angry. "Morning, Harry." She marks the book with a thin silver strip, closes it and sets it on top of her tea table.

"Morning."

She slides to one side of her couch, gives me an inquiring look and taps the seat next to her. I sit and look at Ron, who is getting ready to explode again. Hermione gives him a cold stare. "Just leave, Ron."

He starts screaming at her. "What the hell do you think..." In mid sentence, he stands stiff as a board, and falls down. By the time I look in her direction, Hermione has already put her wand back in the wrist holder. Ron should have known better.

"Nice."

She looks a little less angry. "So?"

"Andromeda had a serious breakdown. She's severely disoriented and delusional."

The anger is replaced with concern. "Oh, Harry! I'm sorry." She gives me a quick hug. "You did mention she wasn't doing well lately. Do you know if anything triggered it?"

"Perhaps, I guess, but I don't know what. It looks pretty serious. She needs a mind healer, and, as you know, there isn't one available. I talked with Fleur last night and she might be able to help finding one. Someone close to her family."

"Good idea." She looks at Ron and frowns. "Oh!"

"What?"

"What about Teddy?" She squeezes my arm as if she was in pain and whispers. "You're dropping out."

I just nod.

She gets up, her eyes brimming with tears. "No!"

"It can't be helped." I get up and stand next to her. Her hands are curled into fists and her shoulders tense. She starts breathing fast, and her magic swirls around. The anger she was displaying before is turning into a full panic attack.

"No! I can't..."

Trying to head it off, I hold her face between my hands and look straight into her eyes. I send a legillimency probe into her defenses and speak loudly. "Clear your mind, Hermione!"

I catch a glimpse of two boys fighting in a corridor and Sinistra's face before her defenses clamp down and kick me out of her mind. Her face goes blank as she regains control of her emotions.

We've been very quietly studying the mind arts. At first, just meditation, occlumency and a little intuitive legillimency during our camping trip. Afterwards, more. Obliviation, compulsion, confundus and illusion from a couple of books we found at Grimmaulds Place. Hermione is a natural occlumens, her disciplined mind going smoothly into mastering her memories and her emotions. She's also fast at grasping basic theory and has become a frighteningly subtle obliviator. I'm a poor occlumens, but I've shown some aptitude for the more aggressive side of it. More of a sledgehammer than a scalpel, as Hermione would put it.

She blinks slowly a couple of times. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." I give her a soft kiss on the forehead and she responds with a weak smile.

I look at Ron, lying stiff there, and suddenly looking scared. Hermione follows my reasoning and points her wand at Ron. " _Obliviate_ ". She wipes out the last minute from Ron's memory, leaving him a little dazed in the process.

She shakes her head sadly. "This is really selfish, but I don't know how I can make it without you here."

I smile softly at her. "You've endured worse, Squeeze."

"I wasn't alone, you bastard! And don't call me that."

"Besides,." I look at Ron, "You won't be alone..." I much prefer her angry to sad.

"Right." She turns to Ron. "Are you going to behave? Next time is going to be a stunner." He moves his eyes in a way that might be charitably construed as yes. She casts the counterspell and Ron sits up, still a little dazed by the obliviation.

I snap my fingers next to his nose to call his attention. "Hey!" He turns to me. "I respectfully suggest you try not to annoy her, mate. If you want to keep your bits, that is."

Hermione puffs in annoyance. I grab her hand. "I have to go."

"But..."

"I'm sorry. I have to see the Headmistress, and I need to get back home soon."

"I need to talk to you." Her tone is a little whiny, which goes right over Ron's head, but surprises us enough that we laugh a bit.

"There's a Hogsmead weekend in two weeks. Picnic lunch. Sirius cave at noon?" I look at Ron and smile. "Take care of her."

"All right, mate." I turn around after squeezing Hermione's hand one last time and head for the door. Ron stops me. "Hey!"

"What?"

"What about Ginny?"

I turn around and put a hand on his shoulder. "Ginny! Right on. I knew I was forgetting something. Tell her... no. Tell her I'll write a letter. A long one. Cherrio!"

Ron and Hermione stare at the closed door after Harry departs. Hermione asks the question. "What's with him? I don't recall seeing him so... bubbly."

Ron scratches his head and snickers. "If I didn't know better, I'd say he shagged someone last night."

Hermione stares at him, a crease on her forehead. "Fleur?"

Ron is shocked. "She wouldn't!"

Hermione doesn't hate Fleur like Molly and Ginny do, but she doesn't really trust her in that way. She's seen the hungry way Fleur looks at Harry sometimes. She shrugs. "He wouldn't"

+O+O+O+

After a breakfast, and a two minute chat with Neville, I head to the Headmistress' office. I stop and stare at the gargoyle. Using a muggle catfood brand as password is one of the rare signs that the Headmistress has a sense of humor. _"Whiskas"_

The rising staircase deposits me in front of the oak double door, which opens silently. The old office has changed a bit. The cabinet of the pensieve is still in the same corner, and the paintings of former Headmasters still grace the walls, rearranged to make space for a smug looking Dumbledore. There is no painting of Snape, and, as far as I'm concerned, there will never be one. He played his role. A hero, in his own way. But Hogwarts is a school, and what he allowed to happen inside these walls left a stain that will never really be erased.

There's also books, but few personal items. After Dumbledore, the office looks spare, matching the dress and manner of the current occupant. She sits behind her desk, a pile of blank parchment to one side. "Good morning, Headmistress."

"Mr. Potter." She gives me a dry look over her glasses. "What brings you to my office this fine morning?"

Before I could answer, Dumbledore's portrait decides to intrude. "Oh, good morning, Harry. So good to see you!"

His smile reminds me of Lockhart. I glare back at the portrait and turn to McGonagall. "Can you shut him up?"

She's taken aback by the venom in my voice, but nods. Tradition is pretty clear on that. Portraits are not owed courtesy. "Of course." She waves her wand in a broad arc, mutters something, and the Headmasters paintings become so much frozen paint on canvas. She looks at me curiously. "What's your problem with Albus?"

I sigh. "That's a long story. Good for a cold winter night and a bottle of single malt."

A reluctant smile. "That can be arranged." She plants her elbows on the desk and steeples her fingers. "Again, Mr. Potter. What brings you here."

"I'm very sorry, Headmistress. I have to quit Hogwarts."

She purses her lips and looks disappointed. "Would you mind telling me why?"

"Andromeda had a mental breakdown yesterday. I can't leave her and Teddy with a house-elf."

She nods and looks concerned. "What about your studies?"

"I'll work on my own, maybe find tutors."

"Is there nobody else?"

"You tell me."

She frowns, stands up and stares through the window. "I suppose not." She pauses for a bit. "You realize this is awkward news."

"Of course." People are still very nervous. About a quarter of the students currently at school only decided to come after news of my returning came out. "Would a letter to the Prophet help?"

She gives me a level stare. "It would. A public interview would be better, specially if you encouraged parents to keep their children at school."

I snort. I've been trying to keep myself out of the public's view, in the hopes they forget about me a bit. My primary worry is Andromeda and Teddy's safety. Making things public may paint a target on them. Hogwarts is important, though. "All right. As long as you're there with me."

Her face softens. She knows the interview is a big concession. This is a woman with the weight of our world on her shoulders. She speaks en a near whisper. "I'll set it up. I'm sorry to see you go, Harry."

"I'm sorry to leave as well, Headmistress."

I get up to leave, but she comes around the desk, and grabs me in a hug. It's so bloody unexpected I just stand there, stunned, for a few seconds. Finally, my mind reboots and I return the hug. This old witch means more to me than I can possibly ever express. Her bony frame feels frail in my arms. "You may call me Minerva now, Harry."

It takes all my self control not to start crying on her shoulder.

 **Hermione**

Anger. Twelve-year-old blood supremacist, spouting poisonous garbage. Harry dropping out and leaving me here to deal with things... without him. The stupid red lump in front of me. Damned deserter... Still too tasty for my own good. He's smiling vacantly. Lights are still a little out from the memory charm, oblivious. I don't understand where all this anger is coming from. It goes away, sometimes, and then it comes back, doubled. A hate potion? I check food and drink regularly. Constant vigilance and all that. Some compulsion charm? We've learned the detection spells... Maybe I'm just angry that's all. It's not like I don't have reasons... Maybe someone can help me a little. "Ron!"

"Ehh... what is it, honey?"

"Don't 'honey' me you useless waste of space. Follow me."

"Yes, honey..."

I growl as I walk into my bedroom and he follows me. I close the door behind us, casting locking and privacy spells. I walk back past him and snap my fingers near his face. "Ron! Look at me!"

"What?"

I take off the top of my exercise suit and unhook the bra, tossing both at a corner. This is the first time he actually sees my breasts, so he gets flushed and his eyes look like saucers. "Look at my face, Ron, not at my baps!"

"Y-yes..." He lifts his eyes a bit.

I hold them up. "Do you like them?"

"Yes."

I pinch the nipples and raise my voice. "Do you like them, Ronald Billius Weasley?"

He raises his voice too. "Yes!"

"Good. Two rules. You will do exactly as I say, and you will not make one sound, unless I ask you a question. Understood?"

He looks confused and whispers. "Y-yes."

Again, I raise my voice. "I asked you a question! Do you understand?"

"Yes!" A little firmer now.

"Say yes m'am."

"Yes, m'am!"

"Kneel."

He hesitates, but does it. "Yes m'am."

I scream at his face. "Did I ask you a question?"

"No m'am. S-sorry."

I raise my left hand and slap his face with everything I got. His pale face pinks up nicely and the surprise and hurt in his eyes are just perfect. I soften my voice. "That was for being late." I get near him, dangling my breasts in front of his face and whisper in his ear. "That will never happen again. British punctuality, you miserable oaf. Or else..."

I stand back and wait for the message to sink in. Then I let him have it with my right hand to the other side of his face. "That is for raising your voice to me. If it happens again, I'll hex your bits until you cry like a little girl. Do. You. Understand?"

He actually smiles. "Yes, m'am." He's beginning to enjoy it. What a surprise.

"Hands to your back. Together." I conjure a bit of rope around his wrists. Not too tight. I walk around, taking in his large, strong frame, rough features and long, unruly red hair. An attractive physical specimen.

I stand in front of him and grab his head by the hair on the back. I squeeze my breasts to his face. "Lick them." Little shivers of pleasure. I thrust my hardened nipples into his mouth. "Suck them." My idle hand goes inside my knickers. I'm fingering myself as he suckles. "Bite." Pain, mixing in with pleasure and savagery. "Bite harder." He does. I enjoy the mixture of pain and pleasure.

I pull his head away. "Good job, little bitch." I'm still fingering myself, my knickers soaked. "Get up."

His stare is vacant, lost in the moment. I vanish the ropes. "Take off your robes." He does. Sleeveless tee and tented boxer shorts underneath. "Boxers too."

He's a little embarrassed, scrunching around his erection. I study it. A nice, healthy looking member, with size consistent with Ron's height and built. It seems almost to vibrate, waiting.

He's is rather primed, I think. It won't take long. "Sit at the edge of the bed." I kneel in front of him, keeping my eyes on his face. I stop fingering myself, and squeeze his member between my slightly abused breasts. His eyes cloud with pleasure. I grab him in one fist, pumping a few times, while my other hand goes right back between my legs. I take his head in my mouth, licking and sucking while pumping with one hand, and rubbing myself harder. He smells of sweat, a bit of urine and old socks. He begins to tense, and I take him deeper into my mouth. All the way to my throat and back, humming and pumping and sliding in and out faster. It takes only a few seconds for an involuntary moan to escape his lips and spurts of semen to fill my mouth. Salty and a little harsh. I swallow it all, while a little orgasm spreads from my core, burning up some of my anger with it. My own moan is muffled by the quickly deflating flesh in my mouth.

I get up and step back a little. A glimpse of everyday Ron makes an appearance. "That was brill..."

I cut him off with a glare. I grab my wand and cast a _scourgify_ on him, a rough cleaning spell, not usually used on people. He takes in a sharp breath with the pain and looks hurt. I try to make myself sound calm. "This wasn't roleplay, Ronald. When we are alone, the two rules apply and you're my little bitch. Understand?" He nods. "You left us, Ronald. I haven't forgiven you." I cancel out the spells at the door and head to the bathroom. Before I close the door I add. "Get dressed and leave. I don't want to stare at your stupid face for a while."

It hits me in the middle of my shower. Great wracking sobs, and my knees bend, as I curl into a ball at the floor of the stall. What am I doing? What's happening to me? Stupid, fucking Harry... I hug my knees and sob.

+O+O+O+

I walk in close to the end of dinner, sit near a group of fourth years and serve myself. I'm halfway through when Ginny sits next to me, an earnest smile on her face. I feel an urge to wipe that smile off with a punch or a curse. I find myself understanding our old potions master's behavior. "What?"

"What have you done with my brother, Hermione? He's been doing a great Luna impression all day today."

I chew my food and say nothing. "C'mon girlfriend, talk to me. Did you do it?"

I realize I'm not going to get rid of her if I don't give her something. "We reached an understanding."

"What understanding, you sorry slag? I need details." I sigh and change subjects.

"Harry came by this morning."

The hurt in her eyes is immediate. "Where is he?"

"He just had a few minutes. Andromeda had some kind of bad breakdown. He's dropping out of school."

A shocked look. Then sadness and tears. "He didn't look for me." A statement, not a question.

"He was in a hurry. He said he would write you. A long letter, he said."

She gets up and runs away. I'm worried about her and Harry. A little, maybe. But the anger is still around, and gets a little satisfaction out of hurting her too. I shake my head and get back to my food. I can do this. I know I can.

 **Fleur**

It's a sapphire pendant, a mouthwatering ten carat star sapphire on what I presume is a Goblin silver setting and a long chain of the same material. It's supposed to hang a little inside the cleavage. A magnificent piece, worthy of royalty, and it's heavily enchanted too. I'm at one of the curse-breaking workshops at Gringotts, a spare, heavily shielded room with a couple of long rough tables and shelves with books, tools and supplies. I can't feel any darkness coming from the piece, but feelings can be deceiving and this wouldn't be here if there wasn't something more.

There's amusement in my master's voice. "It is magnificent, isn't it, Apprentice Weasley?"

"Yes, Master Silverjaw. It certainly is."

He runs a clawed finger through the setting. "What can you tell me about it?"

"A star sapphire, about ten carats. Goblin-made silver setting..."

A low rumbling noise, denoting amusement. "Yes, you might think so. But no." He points at some of the detail work. "You see the wing motif at the edge?"

Indeed, the edge of the setting is finished by tiny angel-wing shapes incised in the metal. I nod. "Yes."

He continues. "This motif is characteristic of the D'Amici workshop. Have you heard of him?"

"Only vaguely, Master."

"A Florentin goldsmith, one of only three wizards ever allowed to work with Goblin silver. He apprenticed under Bardunk. This setting, Apprentice, is almost six hundred years old. It was originally sold to a wizarding family from Venice, with a garnet. The sapphire is from a tomb find in northern India and, together with the original piece made its way to the Witold family, from Bremen. Three hundred years ago, one of the Witolds had the garnet replaced with the sapphire, and gifted the necklace to a nameless Veela mistress. It became known as 'T _he star of dawn._ '"

I can't hide my smile at that. "'Pretty name. Per'aps the nameless Veela's name was Dawn.."

"Perhaps." Again the rumbling sound. "Quite a few treasures have come across the your people's claws. It then passed from mother to daughter, and over a hundred years ago, it disappeared, together with its owner."

"Kidnapped and enslaved, I presume."

"A reasonable assumption. It surfaces again shortly before the Grindelwald war, around the elegant neck of Maritza Fawley, a famous beauty, then recently married to Barthold Fawley. She died mysteriously a few years later. The current Lady Fawley requested a description of the enchantments present, prior to placing it for sale." He shows his fangs, in a nightmare version of a human smile. "So, Apprentice. What are the enchantments?"

I look at the piece with newly found disgust. Its link to a Veela's disappearance a touchy subject, which I would report to the Council, if my employment contract didn't forbid it.

I begin working on it. My magic sense just tells me that the necklace is enchanted and that there are no dark curses. I examine the minute runes engraved on the clasp and on the setting and I use several diagnostic spells. But this is just the beginning. After checking the rune books, filling several parchments of arithmantic calculations, and casting more complicated diagnostic spells, I'm confident I have a full picture. A rather disgusting full picture.

"Master Silverjaw, I have completed my analysis."

"Then report."

"Zere are four enchantments present in ze necklace. Tied to a single Seph rune at ze clasp, a weak compulsion charm to discourage ze user to remove the necklace."

"Very well, what else?"

"Zere is an advanced cosmetic charm, to make ze user look younger and more beautiful. Eet is fairly standard, similar to cosmetic enchantments currently in use, but a bit more powerful. Eet is tied to a runic array built around Ekaz, at ze bottom of ze reverse side of ze mounting. Zen zere's a subtle 'ealer's spell, similar, but not identical to a cheering charm. Eet makes ze wearer feel a pleasant 'ealthy glow. Eet is tied to a single Noz rune at ze top of ze reverse side of ze mount."

I look at the goblin and he is nodding slowly. "Very good so far, Apprentice. What else?"

"Etched directly on the stone, partially 'idden by ze mount, zere is a complex runic array. Eet is based on a 'ealer spell used to accelerate the treatment of severe injuries. In zis case, eet accelerates body processes, increasing the aging rate dramatically. Ze spell slowly drains magic and life from ze wearer, storing eet in part in ze stone, and using ze rest to power ze other spells."

"Do you know by how much aging is speeded up?"

"By a factor of fifteen to twenty-five."

He grunts. "So, how would such a thing be used?"

"On one hand, it's a slow assassination weapon, Master. Ze victim puts on ze necklace and its beneficial effects, plus ze compulsion charm will make ze user very reluctant to take it off. After a few years, ze victim dies of old age, and ze death may be explained as an unnamed wasting disease.

Ze fact that no dark spells or curses are used make it 'ard for ze victim to defend against it with the usual detection methods."

Loud, interrupted rumbling. The Goblin version of gleeful cackling. "Anything else?"

"Ze worst part. Once charged, ze stone may be used to power up a dark rejuvenation ritual."

"Ha!" Master Silverjaw slaps the table. "Do you know how to remove the enchantments?"

"I would like to check my calculations first, Master, but I believe I do. By luck, ze bottom loop of one of the runes etched on ze stone is visible outside ze mount. Eet is part of ze powering loop for ze other spells. I would use corrosive potion etching to deface the loop. Zat should disable ze ozzer enchantments and allow for ze sapphire to be removed from ze mount wizzout destroying eet. Zen I would remove ze mount runes with localized 'eating, and ze stone runes with acid. Finally, standard jeweler repair spells would restore ze original appearance of ze stone and ze mount."

"Very well, Apprentice. Pending your calculation check, I approve of your plan. Before you put it into practice, we must inform our client."

"Yes, Master."

"We'll request a meeting for tomorrow at nine. Bring your formal robes." Curse-breaker apprentice robes are a horrible blue and orange, but that can't be helped. He walks towards the door, and turns back to me before he leaves. "And excellent work today, Apprentice Weasley. You may go home after you finish your calculations."

"Zank you, Master. May your enemies bleed and your vaults overflow."

"May you find a powerful, wealthy and brave mate, Apprentice, and may your womb flourish with his seed."

Master had never used the traditional formula for unmated Veela before. Him using it now is both a flattering sign of respect and a disturbing show of knowledge about my personal life..

+O+O+O+O+

I greet Harry french style, one peck in each cheek. He is happy to see me, but his smile falters a bit at my invasion of his personal space. "Hi Fleur." He steps back. And looks at me "You're early. And you look quite pleased with yourself."

I try to do a pirouette and stumble a bit, holding onto his shoulder to avoid a fall. It's a strong, solid shoulder too. "Oh, sorry." I giggle. Then I note the puzzled frown on his face. "I'm not drunk, all right? Just 'appy."

The frown turns into a soft smile. "Any particular reason? Is Bill coming back early?"

I wave my hands dismissively. "Ah, non. I 'ad a good day at work, that's all. I was given a very 'ard puzzle to solve, and I did it! All by myself too. My Master was very pleased."

"Your Master?"

"I'm an apprentice curse-breaker. An apprentice must have a master."

"And your master is a goblin."

"Yes! A very clever, crusty old goblin. And today, 'e was pleased. So, I'm 'appy."

Harry's eyes gleam. "Congratulations, then. Well done." His pleasure at my success seems genuine, even if he has no idea what is involved. In contrast, William tends to be a little condescending.

It's unavoidable, I think, since I'm following in his very accomplished footsteps... annoying, though. I shake my head. I'm pretty sure I shouldn't be comparing them.

"Thanks. What were you doing before I came?"

"I was revising for my NEWTs. Potions, to be precise. Andromeda is in her bedroom, watching the telly, I think. She will move around, but she hasn't spoken in two days. Teddy is napping."

The little raven comes flying across the room and lands on my shoulder, pecking at my hair. I caress his head and neck. "'ello, Braddock. Good to see you again."

Harry laughs a bit, pointing at my hair. "He likes shiny things."

I ignore him, and speak in a stage whisper. "Between us birds, your familiar is silly. Obviously eet is me you like, not my 'air."

Harry comes closer and caresses Braddock with a finger. The bird responds with a thrill and jumps to his shoulder. "I suppose you're right.".

"Caw!"

Harry laughs. "All right." He turns to me. "He is going flying outside and he hopes you will join him."

I speak to the bird. "Unfortunately, my bird form only shows up if I'm angry or upset. Otherwise I would gladly fly with you."

"Caw!" He flies away, out through a window. "That's too bad."

"Are zose your words or Braddock's?"

He thinks for a few seconds. "Both, I guess. I wouldn't mind seeing your bird form."

I nearly laugh. Most wizards would like to see my breasts. "Eet looks like a phoenix, just larger. But you wouldn't want to see eet. Angry veela, sharp claws, fireballs... you know? Eet is quite scary."

His eyes flash in annoyance. "I don't scare easily."

I suppose he doesn't. Better change subjects."I almost forgot. Good news. Tante Anais is coming, ze day after tomorrow. I'll bring 'er 'ere after work. She can stay with me at ze cottage afterwards."

"Well, that is very good news. Thank you, Fleur." He comes close and gives me a peck in the cheek.

Suddenly it's too hot. Maybe it's the work robes. "Give me a moment. I'm going to ze guest room and change. Zen, per'aps I can 'elp with Potions."

I move towards the stairs. He speaks to my back. "Can I offer you something? Maybe a glass of wine?"

"A glass of wine would be nice. Red, is you 'ave it."

We work for a few hours. At some point, his house elf comes with Teddy and a bottle. "Can I feed 'im?"

"Sure."

He hands me the baby, who squirms restlessly, probably because of my unfamiliar scent and magic. Finally he settles on my arms and changes his 'air color from raven black to white blonde. "Oh!" It surprised me, because I met him briefly on my previous visit, but he didn't change colors then.

I give him the bottle and he starts suckling hungrily. "I miss 'er. We were good friends, you know?"

"I don't think I realized that."

"We shared a bedroom at Headquarters. She told me stories about William at Hogwarts. She's one of the very few girl friends I ever had."

His eyes lose focus, and he seems to lose himself in grief for a moment. "She was special."

There is a world of pain in his words. "I didn't know you were close."

His smile is pained. "We weren't..." his voice breaks. "I'm sorry. It's stupid."

"What is eet?"

"She came to me on a dream, Samhain evening. To thank me for watching over her family. I hadn't realized it, but it brought back old feelings."

I look into his eyes. "Feelings?"

"Grief over losing her. And more."

"Ah! You liked her."

He sighs. "I had a stupid teenage crush on her, all right? You remember. We were stuck in that horrible place. Then she would come, and fill the place with light and laughter."

"She was very fond of you. Maybe something more too."

He gives a bitter laugh. "She did make that clear in the dream."

I surprise myself with a bit of jealousy, both at his teenage crush and at whatever happened in his dream. I decide to play it light. "So, you like zem older, Mr. Potter?"

He gets jolted out of his funk by my tone. He looks into my eyes, and a soft smile appears in his face. "Maybe."

I tease him. "Are you flirting wizz me, Mr. Potter?"

A broader smile and a light tone. "I wouldn't dare, Mrs. Weasley. Your husband is scary."

I almost laugh. Harry Potter calling William scary. "Pof! My 'usband is a kitten. I'm ze scary one. And I say you can flirt all you want. A girl needs to feel appreciated."

He gives me a sharp look and I feel I might have overstepped. "I seem to recall you were not very appreciative of the attentions of my colleagues during the tournament."

"Eet all depends on where ze attention is coming from."

He tosses my words back at me. "Are you flirting with me, Mrs. Weasley?"

Two can play that game. "Non. Your girlfriend is scary." I hate that little tramp.

He laughs, and there is genuine amusement in his laughter. "She can be." He gathers himself and gets up. He picks up the baby from my hands and the empty bottle. He seems lost in thought.

I get up. "I must leave."

"You won't stay for dinner? I was planning on ordering some pizza."

"Hmm. Tempting. But I must wake up very early tomorrow."

"Well, thank you for coming. And for the help with revision."

"Eet was nozzing. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Bye."

I floo back to my lonely cottage and I fill the bathtub. As I soak, my mind goes back to the old Headquarters. I had just begun dating William. I do remember feeling a little put out that a certain green eyed teen showed no interest in me.

Tonks and I talked about him after the lights were off. We were both falling for older men we would eventually marry. But we were both a little captivated by the young green eyed hero with the world on his shoulders. Apparently, for one of us, it wasn't entirely one-sided. I wonder how that dream visit of his went, as my fingers search for a little nub between my legs...


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

 **Fleur**

A small meeting room close to the main hall at Gringotts. A large desk, stark black stone top. Walls bare, except for a nasty looking, double edged battle axe hanging on the wall behind the desk. Decoration, sure. But also a subtle threat. Master Silverjaw is sitting at a throne-like chair behind the desk, and I'm standing to his right, slightly behind him. Trying hard to look like a garish part of the decor. On top of the desk, the Star of Dawn, its malevolent beauty highlighted by the background. A couple of minutes past nine, the door opens and a witch walks in, followed by a small goblin in what appears to be an old-fashioned muggle business suit. The witch is a tall, aristocratic brunette, maybe a decade older than me, with brown eyes, a sharp blade of a nose and thin lips curled in a sneer. She is dressed in last year's acromantula finery. Small diamond earrings and a house ring complete the ensemble.

Master Silverjaw begins the meeting, in typical goblin fashion. "Lady Fawler. Have a seat."

She looks at the necklace first, a mix of satisfaction and regret in her face. She then approaches the desk and, ignoring Master's instruction, turns to me in a vicious tone. "What is this creature doing here?"

Master makes a menacing grumble and raises his voice to a sharp tone. "Sit down, Lady Fowler!"

There is a moment's pause, and after what appears to be a heated inner debate, caution wins over arrogance and she complies. Still, she continues in a thin elevated tone. "You must remove this foul creature..."

Master roars. "Enough!" She shuts up. Bullies are easy to scare. "This is Apprentice Curse Breaker Weasley, a valued employ of Gringotts. Her presence is required, as she is the one who examined your property."

Her voice drips contempt. "The only thing these whores know or care about is rutting. Why should I listen to anything she says?"

I manage to remain impassive throughout the exchange, although my fingers begin to curl into claws and a dusting of feathers appears on my neck. "You hired Gringotts to examine and eventually remove the enchantments on this necklace. How we choose to do the job is our concern alone."

She begins to get up and reaches for the necklace. Master nods to her escort and he places a hand on her shoulder, forcing her back down. "Unhand me immediately."

"You will remain seated until our business is concluded. I remind you the treaty allows Gringotts to confiscate your property for negotiating in bad faith."

She grinds her teeth in glares at both myself and Master Silverjaw with utter hatred.. "Very well, goblin! What is the result of the so-called examination your valued whore supposedly performed?"

"Go ahead, Apprentice."

I manage to get a hold of myself and describe, with the frostiest demeanor I can find, the four-layered enchantment in lay terms. Master grunts approvingly a couple of times, and the hatred in the woman's eyes turns into naked satisfaction and greed.

At the end, she tries again to get up and reach for the necklace, and again, she is stopped short. She screeches. "What? I'll take my property now! You can remove the five-hundred-galleon fee for your work from my vault."

Satisfaction drips from Master's voice. "That will not be possible."

"Why?" She screams.

"The 1792 treaty forbids it. Any item found to contain malicious enchantments must either be cleansed or be turned in to the DMLE. The language surely applies to this necklace."

At this stage, I'm actually enjoying myself. A loud, and truly foul stream of expletives follows. I actually learn an expression or two. Finally, she tires of screaming at a group of impassive faces and gives up. "Very well. Remove the enchantments. You can take the thousand galleon fee and shove it."

She gets up and, this time, nobody stops it. Master grumbles in amusement and talks to her back. "Actually, our fee will be two thousand galleons."

She turns back. "What? You are a just pack of fucking th..."

Master slaps the table, with a sharp crack. "Do not use that word here! We will toss you in the arena, and you can duel a Goblin warrior with your hands and teeth." He grins, showing her a mouthful of sharp needle-like teeth. "Wizards and witches sully the Nation's honor at their peril. Your contract clearly specifies the double fee clause in case the enchantment was complex and dangerous to break."

The threat of dueling a goblin barehanded appears to chill her temper a little. Her shoulders sag, and she looks tired. "Very well, goblin. What is the Nation's appraisal for the necklace?"

"Twenty-two thousand five hundred galleons." Nearly a quarter-million pounds in muggle money. A lot less than a similar historical jewel would fetch in the muggle world, but fair as far as I know.

"Can you handle the sale?"

"Of course. Five percent fee up to appraisal, thirty percent for anything above that."

She rallies. "You've already made too much gold at my family's expense. Make it two and ten and you've got a deal."

"Three and twenty."

"Two-and-a-half and twenty." She implicitly agrees the appraisal is realistic.

"The Bank accepts. Master turns to the attending goblin. Account Manager Slogath, have a contract prepared for the consignment." The small goblin bows "Right away, Chief Curse-Breaker."

He turns to me and nods. I take a wooden box from a deep pocket in my robes and place the necklace inside, and put it away. Master leaves quietly, and I follow. The silent departure is yet another subtle goblin insult.

As we walk down the corridor, he speaks without turning to me. "Get to it, Apprentice. Call me when you're done."

"Right away, Master."

It's an exacting bit of work, and, with food and bathroom breaks, it takes me to early evening to finish. I call for Master Silverjaw, exhausted and proud. He picks up the necklace and examines it minutely, grunting and huffing for a few minutes. "Good work. A thousand galleon bonus will be deposited in your vault."

I feel myself blush. Kind words are one thing. Hard currency... "Thank you, Master."

"Congratulations, Junior Curse Breaker Weasley. Excellent job."

It takes a few seconds for it to register. I very nearly jump forward and hug the old goblin. It's been a little over three years. Only half the people they hire ever make it, and it usually takes four or five years.

I open and close my mouth a couple of times. I must maintain decorum, I must! Master is quietly observing me, gauging my reaction. I manage to get a hold of myself. I bow deeply, showing my appreciation and respect. "I thank you and the Nation for the honor, Chief."

He makes a grinding noise. "The Nation appreciates talent and effort, young veela." He walks slowly towards the entrance hall and I follow. "The bank has come into the possession of several wizarding manors that are currently inaccessible through magical hiding and warding. Take a week off, and use the time to review residential and home-vault ward-breaking."

He stops walking near a door, and I decide to be a little daring. "I would like to go see my 'usband, if eet's not inconvenient."

He stops and thinks a bit. "His team is staying in a muggle yacht called 'Mimosa', anchored close to their work site. A two-way portkey will be made available to you with your Account Manager at Gringotts Paris." He rumbles in amusement. "For a small fee, of course."

How did he know I was planning to go to Paris? I sense there is a deeper purpose at play, and it scares me. My cute little arse is the very definition of disposable.

I bow again. "May ze blood of your enemies grace your blade, and your vaults fill with plunder, Chief."

"May skill and luck favor you on your endeavors, Curse-breaker."

 **Harry**

The store is cramped and dark. Dozens of owls and a few other birds in cages along one wall. Food, empty cages and other bird paraphernalia are scattered about. The presence of all the caged raptors makes Braddock a little nervous.

Behind a counter at the back, a middle-aged wizard is reading today's Prophet. He speaks without lifting his eyes from the paper. "Good morning. How can I help you?"

"Good morning, Jacob."

He drops the paper and breaks into a broad smile. "By Merlin's beard, it's good to see you, Harry! It's been a long time. You've grown."

Nearly a foot, as a matter of fact. It's been over four years. "Too long." Braddock flaps his wings in greeting. "This is Braddock."

As he looks at the raven, he jumps on the counter and starts pecking at a stack of sickles. "This is one beautiful bird, Harry."

"He's a wild one. Needs the mail-owl enchantment."

"Ah, of course. A long time ago, people used ravens for messages as often as owls, you know?"

"No I didn't."

"Yes. Damned clever birds, ravens. Carrion eaters. Easier to feed than raptors." He grabs a couple of owl treats from a basket and drops them in front of Braddock. "They will eat just about anything."

I laugh a bit, thinking of Braddock happily picking maggots out of a slice of pizza, forgotten on the ground, next to a dumpster. "I've noticed."

"They became a bird of ill-omen. Utter rubbish, you see. For one, ravens make great pets. They are much more sociable than raptors."

"I've noticed he spends a lot more time around me than my owl used to do."

"Raptors are solitary birds. ravens like groups. Also, they mate for life. At some point you should find yourself adding a female raven to your family."

I laugh. "I see."

"About the enchantment. It's actually a minor ritual. It will take me about forty minutes to perform. Do you have any other business in the Alley?"

"Not really. Couldn't I watch?"

He shrugs. "Sorry. Guild secret."

"All right. I'll come back soon."

As I leave the store, I pull up the hood of my cloak. I find that enough to keep people from mobbing me.

I window-shop, mostly checking out the new Nimbus 2010 at Quality Quiddich Supplies. It looks pretty, but I'm not even a bit tempted. I'm just riding my Firebolt until one of us falls apart.

When I walk back into Eelops, Braddock is frantic, flapping and cawing madly.

"What is it?" I look at Jacob, and he's sweating and looking very uncomfortable. A brush of legillimency and I get the image of a floo call and mention of my name. He tries to take out his wand, but before he can point if, Braddock grabs it from his hand and flies to my shoulder.

"Ruddy bird, give that back..."

I point Jacob's wand back at him, and push enough magic to get the point glowing green. "Who did you call?"

He soils himself. The answer comes both from his mouth and his mind. "D-d-death eaters..."

A chill runs down my spine. I don't know how long I have. Maybe just seconds. I break Jason's wand in half and use mine to stun and bind him. A slight shiver tells me an anti-portkey area spell is in place. There's a small fireplace at the back of the store. I run there, grab a pinch of powder and toss it in. "DMLE." A second's delay until someone shows. "Death eaters. Diagon Alley. Eelops."

A crash from the front of the store, and two figures in black robes and masks walk in. I hide for a second in the shadows while their eyes adjust to the penumbra. They startle when I cast a pair of silent bone breakers at their legs. One of them cast a shield just in time to save them, while the other finds me from the spell light and casts a well-aimed death curse. Gloves off, then.

I dodge and cast a strong bombarda at the ground in front of them. The explosion throws a lot of dust and stone debris in the air. The shield protects them from the worse of the explosion, but they are pushed towards the front of the store and separate a bit. The shield of the defensive partner flickers but holds. However, it no longer protects the other fellow. He's in the middle of casting another death curse, when my cutting spell shears off both his legs at the mid-thigh and effectively ends his participation in the ambush.

The remaining fellow decides to trust in his shield, probably expecting further reinforcements. A poor tactic. Even though I'm not using unforgivables, there are plenty of offensive spells which will shred a protego shield like rice paper. A turkish acid curse from the Potter grimoire goes right through the shield, and has the fellow's screams joining his partner's in seconds.

A couple of seconds later a third death eater crosses the threshold and begins throwing dark curses blindly towards the back of the store. I can't really see details through the glare from the street and the dust in the air, but I know exactly who it is by the speed of casting and choice of spells. I'm facing Antonin Doholov. The deadliest of Tom's little munchers after Bellatrix.

I was already the strongest fighter in school at the end of fifth year, and I could probably handle a trained auror or most inner circle death eaters in a straight fight by the Battle of Hogwarts. Removal of the horcrux and full access to the Black and Potter grimoires made me stronger and added to my battle spell mix, but I'd still be in trouble if facing the toughest and most experienced fighters on either side. I'm not fully educated. I'm not really battle trained and I'm a bit out of shape. And now I'm facing the scariest monster left out there. I know I'm definitely outclassed, and I would gladly run away if I could. If only I could.

The aurors are coming, so playing for time is not a bad strategy. Trouble is, my opponent knows that as well as I do. He casts a lumos maxima, which blinds me for an instant and reveals my precise position, hunching in the shadows. I dodge, half by instinct, as three dark curses bracket my position. A near miss still lights a line of fire on my wand arm. I banish most of the loose content of the store at him, followed by an overpowered piercing spell and a jelly-legs jinx. He shields the debris, and dodges the jinx, but the piercer breaks his shield and grazes his torso.

He transfigures three large dogs and sets them at me and continues to fling dark curses. I keep dodging, shielding and sending a mix of battle spells, including some dark stuff from the family magics and I conjure a flame whip to deal with the dogs. I manage to remove the legs of two of them, but the third jumps at my throat. I conjure a wooden shield, which deflects the dog and gets reduced to splinters by a bone exploder. I'm on the defensive and losing badly. A cutting curse disposes of the last dog, but not before it manages to bite me in the leg and, as I'm unable to dodge, a bone exploder destroys my left shoulder. I fall to my knees, as the pain of the combined injuries overwhelms me. My vision turns dark, and I see Braddock attack Doholov, distracting him for an instant. I gather everything I have left in one bludgeoner aimed at his torso. I cast, and I see him slap Braddock away and cast a dense-looking shield before darkness falls.

 **Fleur**

I step out of the fireplace, cleaning myself with a spell. I can hardly wait to tell him about it. I call him, not too loud. I don't want to disturb Andromeda or the baby. Winky pops next to me, a concerned look in her face.

"I'm sorry, Mistress Fleur. Master Harry is not here."

I misunderstand her worried expression. "Is 'e going to come back soon?"

"No, Mistress, Master Harry is in St. Mungo. There was an attack and he got hurt."

To my shame, I panic. I sit on the floor and rest my head on my knees, breathing hard. I do not care for a world without Harry Potter in it. Finally I recover a bit of balance and speak to the elf, whispering through my teeth. "Is 'e going to be ok?'

"Yes mistress. He said to tell you everything is fine. He asked you look after Teddy and Mistress Andromeda tonight."

"Where is Teddy?"

"His crib, mistress. I just put him there."

I climb the stairs and enter the nursery. Teddy is still awake, quietly babbling to himself. When he sees me he smiles, turns his hair to white and holds out his arms to be picked up. "Shh, non." His lip twists, threatening to cry. "You're a leetle devil, aren't you?' I caress his head and he calms down. I sing him an old french lullaby, repeating from the start a couple of times, and putting just a tiny bit of magic in it. He falls asleep, just like the green welsh in the first task.

I check on Andromeda, who is sitting on her bed, eyes closed. I turn off the electrical light in her room and leave a conjured blue flame bubble on top of her dresser. She doesn't move.

I come back down and find Winky in the kitchen, scrubbing a pot. "They are quiet now. I'm going to St. Mungos."

"Don't you want dinner first, Mistress?"

"No, thank you. I'll eat something when I come back."

+O+O+O+O+

I'm directed to a room on the third floor. Two aurors stand guard at the door.

I direct myself to one of them. "My name is Fleur Weasley, and I'm 'ere to see 'arry Potter."

"I'm sorry, m'am. Only family allowed."

I put on my professional face and ask coldly. "What is your name, auror?"

"Bugley Jones and my partner is Artin Crowley, m'am."

I nod. "Mr. Potter's family is an eight-month-old infant and a bedridden older witch, Mr. Jones. I'm taking care of them while he is incapacitated. I believe that makes me his next-of-kin, at least for now."

He nods. "Just one moment, m'am." He shares a glance with his partner. Then he opens the door and goes inside the room. Three seconds later, Kingsley Shacklebolt walks out.

"Fleur! What are you doing here?"

I frown at him "I came to see 'arry, Minister."

"All right, but why you? Where is Bill?"

"Bill is away at a dig. I've been 'elping 'arry taking care of Andromeda and Teddy, and preparing for 'is NEWTs."

Kingsley looks sharply at me. "What's wrong with Mrs. Tonks?"

"She 'ad a mental breakdown on Sam'ain. 'arry 'as been taking care of 'er and ze baby since."

"And why Harry?"

I shrug. "You will 'ave to ask 'im. About today, what 'appened? Is 'e awake? Is 'e ok?"

Kingsley looks surprised. "Haven't you heard?"

I get annoyed. "I've been busy."

The Minister smiles. "You'll know soon enough. And he's going to be fine." He steps aside. "Go ahead."

It's a pretty standard hospital room. A small window faces the street outside, white walls, a few cabinets and a bed at the center. Harry is sitting on the bed, left arm immobilized and looking dazed. A man in auror robes stands further away. Braddock is perched on the headboard of the bed, looking at me. Harry's eyes focus on me, and he produces a small, pained smile. "Fleur."

My mind spins in place. He is hurt! And he is fine! I walk forward fast and grab him in a soft embrace. He flinches a bit, but relaxes. I whisper "What 'appened, leetle boy?"

He pushes me back a bit, so he can see my face. His dismay is obvious. "The usual, I guess. Got in trouble." He glances at the raven. "Got help, got lucky. I survived. They didn't. He embraces me back. "I thought I was done with this shit."

From my back, Kingsley clears his throat. "There was an ambush this morning at Eelops Emporium. Four robed and masked death eaters, helped by the store minder, tried to kill Harry. The store owner survived. The leader of the attack, one Antonin Doholov, thought he could duel our friend one-on-one. We're still scraping his remains off the Alley's walls."

I can't hide my astonishment. "Do'olov!" I turn back to face the Minister. "What is eet? Is eet starting again?"

"We don't believe so. It looks like straight revenge for the death of their Dark Lord, together with the mistaken assumption that Harry's defeating him was either luck or happenstance."

Harry laughs bitterly. "They were not mistaken. It was both luck and happenstance."

The Minister shakes his head. "Nevertheless, they will not be eager to try again."

Harry shrugs. "Or, next time, they'll bring a bloody army." A silence ensues, which Harry breaks in a fake cheerful tone. "Where are my manners? Fleur Weasley, meet Gawain Robarts, Head Auror."

The man gives a shallow bow. "Mrs Weasley. Pleased to meet you."

I reply with a bow of my own. "Pleased to meet you as well, Auror Robarts."

In a more serious tone, Harry continues. "Thank you for coming, Fleur."

I make a gesture of dismissal. "Eets nothing. I 'ave news." I turn to Kingsley. "Will you give us a moment?"

Kingsley smiles. "Of course." He turns to the auror. "In fact, are we done here?"

"I believe so, sir. Except for the wands."

"Ah, yes.". He picks a long, thin box out of his pocket and sets it on the bedside table. "We'll be taking our leave, then." They shake hands with Harry, bow to me, and depart.

Harry watches door closing and turns to me. "Tell me."

"I'm ze new Junior Curse-Breaker."

"Wow, Fleur. Congratulations! That was pretty fast, wasn't it?"

I let my pride show a bit. "Eet usually takes four to five years."

"Nice. The Goblet knew what it was doing when it picked you."

"Of course." A small pause. "Do'olov, hm?"

He deflates a bit. "I was badly outmatched, Fleur."

"Maybe you should train, non? Besides, I'm sure eet wasn't just luck?"

"Maybe." He shakes his head and his eyes become wet with unshed tears. "I just want to raise my godson. I don't want to kill anymore."

"Shh." I touch a finger to his lips. "No whining."

A thin smile. "Right."

"I 'ave a week off. I'm traveling. France, to see my parents, and Greece, to see William."

"When are you going?"

"Tomorrow morning. I'll ask Tante Anais to come see you 'ere. I've keyed 'er into the wards at Shell Cottage. She can stay zere. Do you know when you can get out?"

"They said tomorrow afternoon."

I nod. "I'll spend ze night at your place."

"Thank you."

I point at the box with my chin. "What's zat?"

He grabs the box and opens it. There are two wands inside. One is a charred, broken ruin, with pieces of a partially burned red feather core showing. The other is a thick dark wand with the handle sculpted into a cat. "My wand didn't make it. We were not well-matched anymore, and I pushed a lot of magic through with my last spell this morning. "

"Ah! That will do it. I'm sorry."

"I needed a new wand anyways. The other one was Doholov's" He picks it up and grimaces.

"Will eet work?"

"It's not a match. But I did vanquish its owner in battle, so it will probably serve." He waves it in a circular pattern. " _Orchideous_ " A single white lily appears, which he offers to me.

"Thank you." I smell it and whisper. " _La fleur de lys_."

"What?"

"Eet's ze symbol of France."

"It's my mum's name too." I must have looked puzzled. "Lily."

"Ah. I didn't know zat." Our eyes meet, and I lose myself for a bit.

I feel my face warm. He laughs, and the moment is lost. "What?"

"I thought veelas didn't blush."

"Not easily, I suppose." I frown at him. "Where did zat come from?"

"Gabrielle. Your wedding. I gave her a peck in the forehead and she got red as a tomato. I teased her a bit, and then she told me: You're silly. Veelas don't blush."

We both laugh. "I miss 'er."

"I'm going to miss you, Curse-Breaker Weasley.."

I smile and shrug. It's going to take a little time before that sinks in. "Eet's just a week."

 **Hermione**

It's a delicate balance. Enough pain to keep my demons away, enough pleasure to keep my boyfriend coming back. Even thinking about it, planning it, helps. So here we are. I'm entertaining my boyfriend for the third time, and I'm actually somewhat pleased with myself.

He's naked, tied up taut in a Y shape, hands to the the canopy supports and feet tied together to the frame itself. The ropes are dark blue silk, and they look very nice against his white freckled skin. I've silenced him, and I've cast a weak numbing spell on the right place, so things may last a satisfying long time.

I'm also naked, straddling him while impaled, and very slowly moving up and down, front and back, while dripping hot wax from a white candle on his chest. I've been at it for half an hour or maybe a little more. His chest is close to completely covered in dried wax, and I've come already twice, getting very close to a third. My crazy anger is a quiet murmur in the back of my mind. By the quiet bucking under me, he may be coming also, very soon.

A slight popping sound, and Kreacher stands next to the bed, looking his usual lugubrious self.

"I'm busy, Kreacher."

He gives a shallow bow. "My apologies. Master Black asks his Mudblood to come to St. Mungos to see him."

I find myself embarrassingly pleased being Harry's Mudblood. I've probably been around Kreacher too much. "St. Mungos, hm?" The prat has gotten himself hurt again. Not too hurt, if he's sending Kreacher so casually.

The distraction drags me away from the edge, but I'm nothing if not resourceful. I give the candle to Kreacher and climb off. With one hand, I finish myself off, while with the other hand and my mouth, I finish Ron as well. By the buckling, he rather enjoys it.

"Kreacher, will you do me a favor?"

He gives me a suspicious look. "What does the Mudblood want?"

"Just keep dripping wax on the Blood Traitor. Slowly. Concentrate on his thighs. I'm going to take a quick shower and I'll be right back."

Kreacher's smile would freak out a stone statue. I kiss Ron, deeply, and he returns the kiss, with less than stellar enthusiasm. I caress his face as I leave."Just take it, sweety. It's for the Greater Good."

When I get out, Ron is straining against the ropes, while a gleeful Kreacher designs a cute lace pattern with wax on Ron's left thigh. "Thank you, Kreacher. Excellent job."

He bows a little deeper than before. "The Mudblood is a worthy ally of House Black." and pops out.

I scourgify Ron, vanish the ropes and cancel the silencio. With the wax gone, a mottled pattern of redness is left on his skin. The numbing spell will disappear on its own. Ron sits up and looks expectantly at me, waiting for orders. Shaping up nicely. "Go to the Gryffindor tower. You may wait for me at the common room. If I get back before eleven, I'll swing by and report."

He does a slow dip with his head, similar to Kreacher's bows. I stand on tippy toes and give him a peck on the lips as he walks out.

I walk fast to the Hospital Wing. As it's not curfew yet, a few students are still moving about. On the way, I cast a messenger Patronus, to inform the Headmistress and the Head Boy that I'm going to St. Mungos for a few hours. When I get there, Poppy is the only one around, sitting at her desk reading a book. She lifts her eyes and looks at me levelly. "Pleasant evening, Miss Granger. How can I help you?"

"Harry is at St. Mungos. Do you mind if I use your Floo for a quick visit?" The Hospital Wing's floo has a dedicated connection to St. Mungos.

She opens a drawer and gets out a small container of floo powder. "Serve yourself, dear."

I pick up a pinch. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." As I walk towards the fireplace, she continues. " Please tell the boy I am very disappointed. He is supposed to take better care of himself, now that he is not a student anymore."

I can't help it but agree. "Will do, m'am."

The floo trip is much less wrenching than usual. The connection has probably been specially designed to transport critical patients. I end up in a large room, with a couple of uniformed mediwitches running worriedly towards me. As I'm alone and I don't appear hurt, they stop and look annoyed. One of them speaks."This is an emergency floo. What do you want?"

"I apologize. I'm coming from Hogwarts to see a friend. I thought this would be the simplest way to get here."

"Oh, it's alright. Just try to avoid it in the future. You're Granger, right? Here to see Potter, I presume." I nod. "He's at a room on the third floor. The one with the aurors at the door." She points at a pair of double door to one side. "Get out through those doors and take the stairs to the left."

"Thank you."

I'm recognized as I approach the door. One of the auror steps inside and out comes Fleur. I stiffen up, my anger rising swiftly. What is she doing here? "Hermione!" She walks up to me, a pleasant smile on her face. "What was ze name of ze goblin?"

I frown. A security question. Goes with the aurors, I guess. "Griphook."

"Come on in."

I see Harry sitting on the bed, and it's like a huge weight is lifted from my shoulders. I smile, forgetting all my concerns, including Fleur's odd presence. "Hi."

"Hi." He seems as glad to see me as I am to see him. I notice the raven perched at the headboard, staring curiously at me. Harry follows my sight and his smile broadens. "I believe introductions are in order. Braddock, familiar. Meet Hermione, best friend."

The raven caws and bobs, like he's greeting me. Not knowing how to greet a bird properly, I curtsie a bit, which sets both Harry and Fleur snickering. "A raven familiar, Harry? People are already afraid you're the next dark lord..."

Fleur's snickering turns to laughter. "Zat's right. Make your 'air longer, use a white tunic and put Braddock in your shoulder. Voila! Morgan le Fey is reborn."

"Nothing wrong with that. She is my ancestress, after all."

That awakes my curiosity. "Really? How do you know?"

"Potter grimoire. One of Morgan's granddaughters married a Peverell."

No surprise. Harry has become a voracious little bookworm over the years. "Ah. Fun reading?"

"It's actually fascinating. So much family dirt... Some nifty spells and rituals too."

I shake my head and sigh. "A book I'll never read."

He adds in a light tone. "Unless you accept a certain ring from me."

I look him in the eyes, somewhat annoyed. "Why? Are you offering?"

He seems utterly unfazed. "Maybe."

I growl at him. "I hate you, Harry Potter."

"And I love you too, Squeeze."

Fleur is staring at us, confused. "I am clearly out of my depth 'ere. Do you two lovebirds want some privacy?"

I turn to the veela and raise my voice. "He is just teasing me. We've been over this. We don't feel like this about one another!"

He snickers again, the jackass. "Not girlfriend material, sure. But I think you'd make a great wife."

I turn to him and scream. "Right! You know I'll do anything for you, you idiot. You want me? Just ask. I'll marry you tomorrow and have a dozen Potter babies." I can feel tears coming down. "Stop playing with me."

Fleur grabs his attention by touching his shoulder. "Zis is serious, 'arry. No joking matter."

He finally understands. "I-I am sorry. It's just that I miss you. A lot."

I conjure another chair and plop myself down. "And how do you think I feel?"

"Sorry."

"It's alright. You're forgiven." We exchange a weak smile.

Fleur has a relieved smile too. "I really should be going..."

I touch her hand. "Please, stay. I'm sorry for the spectacle. I still want to know what happened." That's when I see the wand lying on the stand. Thick, dark wood, handle shaped like a cat. It takes me just a moment to recognize it. I have a pink scar from left shoulder blade to right hip as a reminder. My throat constricts, so I barely squeeze out. "You killed him."

"Yup." Harry tells both of us the details of this morning's failed ambush.

"Bloody..."

"Merde..."

"I'm alive."

I shake my head. "You were lucky. As always." I look at Braddock. "And you had help."

"Right."

"We know you're very powerful, 'arry. But you need training."

"I know. I went over this with Kingsley. As soon as the doctors clear me, I'm to report to the Ministry for hit-wizard training. No strings attached. He said I can set up a schedule that suits me and even substitute my NEWTs for training evaluations."

Fleur looks a little sad. "So you won't need my 'elp anymore?"

"I can still use the company. And maybe you can teach me something else, like French, or Runes."

"Of course. You used wandless legillimency on ze store owner, right?"

"Yes. Hermione and I have been self-studying the mind arts for a while, using a couple of books from the Black library." I nod in confirmation.

"I wouldn't mind learning a bit of zat. Veela have a natural talent for ze mind arts, but we still require study."

"And I would love to join you when classes are out."

"Zat's fine." Fleur gets up, kisses Harry cheek and shakes my hand. "Tante Anais should be 'ere tomorrow by lunch time. And I'll see you in a week. And 'ermione, I guess I'll see you over Christmas break, hm?"

"I don't have anywhere to go. I was planning to stay at the castle, maybe just go to the Burrow for Christmas dinner."

"I'm moving to Grimmaulds Place. I think Andromeda's house is not safe right now. You could stay with us. There's plenty of room."

"I'd be very happy to do that, Harry. Thanks"

"Au revoir, you two."

After Fleur leaves we exchange a long look, without quite knowing where to start. Then we laugh at our discomfort. "All right, first, who is Tante Anais?"

"She's the mind healer."

"Ah." I think about asking for a consultation. I know there's something wrong with me, but I don't want to get into that with Harry. He's got more than enough on his plate. "Second, where did Braddock come from? I'm sure there's a story there."

Harry laughs. "You're right about that..."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

 **Hermione**

After getting kicked out of Harry's room, I make my way back to the emergency reception area. I meet again the two attending mediwitches and approach them, cautiously. "Could I bother you for a bit of floo powder?"

One of them walks to a wall cabinet and grabs a pinch of gray powder from a small container. The other turns to me. "You're going back to Hogwarts?" I nod and she smiles softly. "How is he doing?"

I can't avoid a grimace. "He's going to be fine."

The other witch hands me the powder. "It can't be easy. Being his friend, I mean."

I smile at the kindness in her tone. "No, it isn't" I pick up the powder and walk to the big fireplace. I continue without turning around. "Worth it, though." I toss the powder in, careful to articulate clearly "Medical Wing, Hogwarts."

I stumble a bit on arrival, and cast a silent cleaning spell on myself. Clear across the large, darkened room, Madam Pomfrey is sitting on a high-backed chair with a couple of bluebell lights behind her and a small book on her lap. As I approach, I realize her eyes are closed. I get near her, and touch her hand. She opens her eyes calmly. "Miss Granger?"

"Broken leg, mangled shoulder, second degree burns, magical exhaustion. Four dead death eaters, including Dolohov. He'll be out of the hospital tomorrow afternoon, none the worse for wear."

She clucks and smiles sadly. "Stupid boy." The fondness in her eyes is plain to see.

Still, I'm moved to defend him. "He hardly ever looks for trouble, you know?"

"Yet..."

I sigh. "Yet, trouble always seems to find him."

She nods, closes her book and gets up, walking towards the staircase that leads to her quarters. I stand there, watching her. Before she disappears, she turns around. "Thank you, Miss Granger. And good night."

"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey. And good night to you as well."

My steps echo on the stones, as I walk towards the Gryffindor tower. It's near eleven, and the first prefect patrols should be doing their rounds. Despite that, I make my way to the Fat Lady without meeting anyone. " _Myrmidon_ "

The door opens and I find myself facing a common room packed to the rafters. Most of seventh year, quite a few from sixth, and some younger. No green and silver, though, showing that the old segregation is still very much on. They were clumped into groups, talking loudly, in order to be heard over the noise. The conversation stops, as all eyes in the room turn to me. The anger, which was quietly simmering in the back of my head, boils over. My magic swirls around me, and they all stand aside, as I cut across the room. I conjure a wooden box and climb. I look around the room, spotting Ronald towards the back. Our eyes meet, and he flinches a bit. I'll deal with him later.

I raise my voice. "Curfew is not an inconvenient little guideline. It's a rule! This castle is dangerous. To each of you. Five point deduction. Prefects. It's your job to enforce the rules!. Ten point deduction and detention with your head of house."

An angry murmur spreads around the room. Nathalie MacDonald, a fearless fourth-year chaser on the Gryffindor team, and one of the few fan-girls Harry actually likes, speaks up. "What about Harry, Miss Granger?"

I look at her and manage a pained smile. "He will be fine, Miss MacDonald. He was attacked this morning at Diagon Alley. Four death-eaters killed, including Dolohov, and Harry was injured. He's at St. Mungos, and he's going home tomorrow, fully healed. Details tomorrow at the Prophet." The room erupts into chaos, as everybody tries to speak at once. I cast sonorus and touch my wand to my throat. "Silence!" The windows shake and the people near me grimace in pain. "Everyone to bed. Now!"

In a few minutes the room empties, leaving Ron, Ginny and Neville. "I know you have questions, but it's very late. Can I have a moment with Ronald?"

Ginny and Neville exchange a look and nod. Neville speaks first. "All right, Hermione. Good night."

He walks out. Then Ginny stands in front of me, a track of tears down her face. "I'm worried about him, facing this stuff all alone..."

I consider telling her about Fleur, but knowing how she feels about the Veela, I decide to omit it and avoid the drama. "He will be fine, Gin. Harry is strong." She nods, sniffles and heads to bed. Finally I'm alone with Ronald. I drop all pretense of civilization and give him a narrow-eyed death glare. I address him in an angry whisper. "Discretion, Ronald! It's not that hard."

There is fear and shame in his eyes. The cold anger laps up the fear, eagerly. "I'm sorry. I was just telling Ginny and Parvati overheard..."

"Stupid!" I grab his face with one hand, my nails digging into his cheeks. "I will punish you, Ronald. But not tonight." I let his face go. "Tomorrow. Nine in the evening. Presentable."

He looks down. "Yes m'am."

+O+O+O+O+

It's near eight when I get to the Great Hall for breakfast. A few scattered students around, mostly reading or writing while they eat. At the far end of the Ravenclaw table, a blonde girl is reading a small gray book while distractedly eating bits of toast with marmalade and sipping tea. I sit next to her.

"Good morning, Luna. Is this seat taken?"

She lifts her eyes from the book and looks at me. For a few seconds she frowns at me with intense concentration. Then, as if she suddenly recognized me, she gives me a luminous smile. "Ah, Hermione. Good morning." She bends sideways and checks under the table. "What do you mean by this seat being taken? Are there nargles around, stealing seats?"

I shake my head. "It's a muggle expression. I was just asking if I could sit next to you."

"Hmm, I see. Muggles are strange." She taps the bench besides her. "Of course you can sit next to me."

"What are you reading?"

"Oh, it's fascinating, really. A travel diary. Some wizard named Charlus Darwin traveled to South America and some islands in the Pacific." She giggles. "Lots and lots of wonderful creatures."

My mouth falls open, and I have to make an effort to close it. My voice comes out strangled. "You mean it's written by Darwin's own hand?"

Luna's luminous grays open wide. "Yes, of course. You've heard of him?" I nod, and she hands me the little book. "I think he was my great-great-grandmother's cousin. An obscure wizard, but very clever."

The little book is indeed hand-written, with flowing slant cursive and lots of nice little drawings. A winged lizard with a frilled crest on top of his head calls my attention. I show it to Luna.

"Oh, yes. A drakym. It's like a firedrake, but it spits acid instead of fire. Beautiful."

I nod dumbly, still processing the little book's existence. "He's really famous among muggles. He discovered the Theory of Evolution."

"The what?"

I go into lecture mode. "The theory of evolution. It explains how species change over time by passing to the descendants those characteristics that make them successful."

Luna stares at me for a second, first frowning, then giggling. Finally she erupts in laughter. It's certainly not the reaction I was expecting. I look cross. She realizes I'm not laughing and stops. "Oh, dear. Muggles really believe in this 'Theory of Evolution'?"

"It's one of the fundamental theories..."

She interrupts me. "Hermione!"

"What?"

"You're a witch. A clever and powerful one too."

"So?"

"You know magic is alive and has a will. You've felt it."

"So?"

"You can't explain how life changes without magic's will." She waves her hands around my face. "Shoo, wrackspurts!"

I stare at her. The worst is that I get what she is driving at. The Statute of Secrecy enforces a separation between magical and mundane, but it's human law, not natural law. There's no real separation as far as life on earth is concerned. Damn. "You mean..."

"I mean this 'Theory of Evolution' is a prank by cousin Charlus. A funny one, too." She gives me a sly grin, a little out of character. "You could write a piece on this so-called theory for the Quibbler, though. I'm sure our readers would love it."

"Ehh..."

She gets up and whispers in my ear. "Go a little easier on Ronald." A quick peck on the cheek and before I can reply, she turns around and heads for the door.

I stare at her back as she heads for the door. My mind reboots. The little diary is still in my hands. "Luna, wait..."

She waves and replies without turning around. "Sixteen inches will do. And just return the diary when you're done." I feel my head spin. Harry says that Luna is hard to follow, but always worth listening to.

Damn.

I'm done with my breakfast, and fully into Darwin's travelogue when the morning mail comes in. The Prophet headline occupies half the page above the fold. "Potter slays Dolohov!" The story itself is not bad. It highlights that Harry was defending himself from an ambush, and just hints that someone as powerful as the "The Dark Lord Slayer" could have just captured the monster, instead of killing him.

Breathless hero worship with a dollop of fear.

After last night's meeting, the whole castle already knows. Except maybe one or two souls, too disconnected to follow rumors. I feel someone approach, and one of those stands next to me. During the summer between third and fourth year, she grew half a foot, her curves matured and her face lost most of the baby fat. Everybody agreed. Daphne Greengrass was the most beautiful girl in Hogwarts. Thick, honey blond hair, falling in soft waves to her bum. An oval face with high cheekbones, dark blue, nearly violet eyes, small upturned nose and a small mouth with cupid' bow lips. Long thin fingers, and well-cared nails usually painted a soft pink. Well-cut robes of the finest silk. Razor sharp wit, a strong mind for theory, but not particularly studious. Excellent practical abilities. Cold and distant to everyone, except her hot-headed brunette sidekick Tracey Davis. Until the battle.

A few snakes showed up to fight on our side. Poorly trained and scared senseless. Most of their house stayed in the dungeons. A few fought on the other side. From our year, just Daphne and Tracey joined us. At the Entrance Hall, with half a dozen former DA members, they fought the death eaters. One purple cutting curse. Caught the taller girl on the face, and the shorter one on the neck. One died almost instantly. The other...

For the first time since that day, the left eye looks alive with emotion. The right eye is a silver ball, and Merlin knows what it sees. The hair is cut shoulder length and tied back. The scar goes from the hairline, across the blind right eye, down to edge of her face. It's thin, slightly pink and it probably tingles when there's magic built up nearby. I have an older one just like it across my back. From the left shoulder blade down to my right hip. The same curse, the same wizard, the same wand.

She dips her head in greeting, the Prophet folded under her arm. "Granger."

I do the same. "Lady Greengrass."

She raises her head a bit, perhaps annoyed with the formality.. "So, it's true."

This is one witch that doesn't make me angry. One hour of bravery, and she lost as much as anyone else, if not more. Death eaters killed her father, a few days before the last battle. Then her best friend and her perfect-looking face with one curse. I nod. "It is." I point to the journal. "The account is pretty accurate, for a change."

She nods. "Potter?"

"Nothing permanent. He'll be out of St. Mungos this afternoon." She looks at me, clearly trying to get something out. I make an annoyed gesture. "What is it?"

"I need a word."

"I have a few minutes."

Her mouth twists in a quintessential Slytherin sneer. "I mean with Potter."

I dismiss her with a wave. "Write him a letter." I know, and she knows, he only gets letters from a very short list of people. I'm also pretty sure Harry has nothing to say to her and no interest in whatever she wants. She stares at me, the single blue eye taking a menacing glint. "What do you want with him?"

"House business."

I shrug. "Ask Gringotts to arrange a meeting." And good luck with that. She looks like she's going to explode. I know the words going through her head – Uppity mudblood, no respect for her betters... I get ready to whip my wand out. Instead she surprises me.

She lowers her eyes, and speaks in a whisper. "Please."

Really? A favor? That's the one thing the scar in her face could actually get her. I breathe in and out slowly. "Very well, Lady Greengrass. I'll write him." Her shoulders sag. "I'll get back to you with his reply."

"Thank you, Miss Granger."

"You're welcome."

 **Fleur**

International portkey arrival is at the Gare du Nord, in a long narrow room with several small side alcoves. I share my portkey with an elderly Italian couple, and we manage to arrive in good order, with just the usual momentary disorientation. I shake my head in annoyance and make a solemn promise to myself that my next trip will be by train. At the end of the hallway, a split. French citizens to one side, and everyone else to a line. I show my wand to a wizard behind a desk, who welcomes me home with a scowl. Beyond that, one-way apparation is allowed, and I go straight to Rue des Reves, Paris magical boulevard.

From the outside, Gringotts Paris looks like an eighteenth century four-story building, a pair of large outside doors leading to a small inner hall and another doorway, and a pair of heavily armored guards. I walk straight into the main reception area, which is nearly identical to the one in London. At the opposite end of the hall, the head of shift sits behind a high desk, a young goblin with an ear missing. He examines me as I approach.

"How can Gringotts help you, Veela?"

I nod briefly. "I'm Curse-Breaker Fleur Weasley, Gringotts London, here to see the Delacour Account manager."

He gives me a deep bow. "Gringotts Paris is honored with your presence, Curse-Breaker. Please go ahead." He points at a door behind him. "Second corridor to the left, third door to the right."

I rap the door and hear a muffled grunt, which I take to mean I should go in. The room is small, dominated by a large mahogany desk, with two uncomfortable-looking armchairs of the same wood for callers, a tapestry showing a group of goblins disemboweling a wizard to one side and a crossed pair of wicked-looking serrated swords on the opposite wall. Behind the desk, an elderly goblin, with reumy eyes, tufts of white fur coming out of his ears, wearing an old-fashioned banker's suit and a gold pince-nez perched on its hooked nose. I've known this goblin my entire life. He has been my family's account manager for over a hundred years. I believe I owe my apprenticeship to his good word, and I'm very proud to stand in front of him after making good use of the opportunity. He is a Senior Account Manager, and, as such, my superior in the arcane bank's hierarchy. I bow deeply.

"Account Manager Gristmaw. Thank you for receiving me without an appointment."

He responds with a deep rumble and a nod. "You were expected. First, congratulations, Curse-Breaker. You are a credit to your family and your Nation." I feel my cheeks coloring with his words. He places two coins on the desk. Old roman coins, one copper, one silver. "International portkeys. The copper one will activate with the word "Mimosa" and take you there. The silver one will bring you to a room here at the Bank, with my name as activating word. Ten galleons and twelve sickles were charged to your vault."

"Thank you, Account Manager."

"Anything else?"

I breathe in and out, trying to calm myself. "I have worked in an object. A silver necklace with a star sapphire called ' _The Star of Dawn'._ It has just been consigned for sale by the Fawley family." Gristmaw is silent, but he stares at me like a dangerous predator looking at prey. "I would like to place a thirty thousand galleon blind bid on the piece from the Delacour family."

Gristmaw stares at me, a gravelly sound coming from his throat. "What's the appraisal value?"

"Twenty-two five."

He grunts and nods. I don't think he was aware of the piece's existence, or its significance. He opens a drawer and picks up a blank parchment and a small knife. He needs blood identification and my vault access details to proceed. I prick a finger and squeeze a drop of blood into the parchment. In a couple of minutes, writing appears on the parchment.

 _Fleur Isabelle Delacour, 21. Unmated Veela - P: Sebastien Pierre Delacour, M: Appoline Louise Delacour (nee Adien). Junior Curse-Breaker, Gringotts London. Vaults: Fleur Delacour Trust 3215G 17 S 3K, full access; William Weasley 12510G 3S 12K, full access; Delacour Family 567212G 13S 8K, family member access, up to 10000G per year._

Gristmaw reads the parchment and grunts. "You require M. Delacour's approval." This is a bit of a surprise. I thought I was granted full access with my majority.

He hands me the parchment. I glance at it, noticing that my thousand galleon bonus has already been deposited. "Very well. Please, prepare the bid. I'll speak to M. Delacour shortly." I fold the parchment and put it away. Then I bow again. "That will be all, Account Manager. May your enemies suffer the bite of your blade, and your vaults fill with gold."

"May your enemies burn and your vaults prosper, Curse-Breaker."

I leave the bank rather troubled. First, the unexpected access restriction on the family vault. That's a thorny problem, because I cannot explain to my father the reason for the bid. Anything I learn in the exercise of my duties is protected by a harsh magical contract. This is going to place a strain on my father's trust I would have gladly avoided.

I apparate directly to the foyer of the manor. Delacour Manor is a three-story sixteenth-century structure with white stone walls, black slate roofing and wooden details painted white. It stands on top of small grassy hill, surrounded by a two-hundred acres of land. Pinot Noir and Gamay vineyards, stables, a brook, woods. It's about an hour drive from Clermont-Ferrand, in central France. For me, it's home, heaven on earth... and heartbreak. I've pushed Papa. Time and time again. Find a consort or a concubine, sire a wizard or a witch heir, a half-sibling for myself and Gabby, to inherit the name and the estate. To keep it in the family. But no. I bring it up. He looks at Maman, she looks at him and they smile. And I want to hex them both. Five hundred years of Delacours, surviving court intrigue, wars and revolutions, dark wizards and the Inquisition, to disappear forever because a foolish romantic wizard can't look past his undying love for a veela. And my airhead sister thinks it's awfully sweet.

Dark thoughts on top of dark thoughts, as I stare at the marble stairs leading to the second floor of the manor. A slight pop and a thin voice next to me.

"Mamselle Fleur?"

She is a young, thin and healthy-looking house-elf, dressed in a scaled down traditional maid outfit. She was the nanny for both Gabby and myself when we were small. I still plan on asking Maman for her service when I have my own children. Dark thoughts fade away for a moment. "Oh. Hello, Inky. Remember, you should call me Mme. Weasley, please."

A moment of hesitation and a bow. "As you wish, Mme. Weasly. Mistress Apolline is at her studio, and Master Delacour is still at work. He is expected for dinner." A slight hesitation. "Are you staying?"

"Until lunch tomorrow, I think."

She bows. "Very well, Madame." And she pops out.

I climb the stairs and meet Maman coming out of her study. She wears a simple cotton white tunic and low muggle sandals, her hair tied in a ponytail. An inch taller than me, she looks regal in a way I can't ever hope to achieve or emulate. She is a strong veela, at home with her nature, but a weak witch, barely able to cast OWL spells effectively. I guess I'm her opposite, in a way, taking after my father much more than I ought to. She is an amazing mother, hiding her disappointments, just as she shows how proud she is of me. We embrace, and I feel lighter.

"Oh, ma petite! What a surprise. It's so good to see you."

I take a half-step backwards and let her look at me. "Hello, Maman. It's good to be home."

She tuts in disapproval. "You look worn out. What are you doing here? Did anything happen?"

I wave my hands. "No, no! I'm just a little tired. The news is good. I've finished my apprenticeship and I've been promoted to Junior Curse-Breaker. I was given a week's vacation, so I'm here."

"Well, congratulations, ma petite!" She embraces me again. "I'm so proud of you. How long are you staying?"

"Until lunch tomorrow. William has been working in an underwater cave near Mikonos. I'm going to surprise him with a little visit."

She laughs, like little bells tinkling. "Careful, ma petite. You never know who is ends up getting surprised." She waves her hand. "Never mind. Come to the studio. I can use some of your amazing magic."

The studio is a large, airy corner room, with windows facing both north and east. Maman's work is making flower arrangements. Works of art, really, beauty and hidden meanings, set on vases or other containers and enchanted to last. The flowers move a little, adapting to the light or the magic of the room. Once done, the enchantments will keep them fresh and lovely for years, as long as someone magical appreciates them. Growing up, I tried to learn her art. My clumsy efforts quickly made me give up in disgust.

Applying the final preservation charms and checking the integrity of the runes on the containers is well up my competence, and the arrangements I enchant will last longer on the cold shelf. I set down to work, enjoying the familiarity of my mother's presence and the joy she puts on her work. After a couple of hours, I stretch, feeling my magic a little depleted. Maman lifts her head from her work and smiles.

"You never cease to amaze me. In two hours, you've done what would take me three exhausting days of work."

"You know I enjoy doing it..." I could make a good living as her magical battery, but...

She guesses my thought and sighs. "I know. No challenge. You're too much like your father."

I wander to the side of the room where she keeps the finished pieces. One of them catches my eyes. A slender crystal vase, with a pair of intertwined tiger lilies, a white one and a purple one, surrounded by a little foliage. I stare at it, mesmerized.

"The twin lilies." She approaches me, embracing me softly at the waist and resting her chin on my shoulder."

My thoughts move to Harry, and the white lily he conjured yesterday. "Can I have it?"

"Of course." Maman laughs, a little deviously. "Who's the lucky woman?"

My thoughts crash down. "What?"

"It's a gift for a woman lover. Surely you can feel it?"

A veil parts, and I realize how sweetly erotic the pair of lilies are. Images of a young dark haired wizard course through my mind. I feel moisture between my legs. I probably blush all the way to my nipples. "Oh! Merde!"

Maman laughs harder, enjoying my embarrassment. "So, sweet Flower, who's the lucky woman?"

"Not a woman. A man. A friend." Am I brave enough to give it to Harry? Will he get it? Most men don't get Maman's art.

"Not a lover?"

"No." Maybe he will get it. He's not most men. Fuck! Maman was always able to confuse me like this.

She looks at the piece again. "Not yet, you mean." She gives me a kiss in the cheek. "Let's wash up for dinner. Sebastien has arrived, I think." Not yet. Fuck. I feel my blood burning. Veela are not meant to be celibate. Or monogamous.

+O+O+O+O+

Papa is a diplomat, currently working at the ICW in Geneve. They've finally chosen a new Supreme Mugwump, an old Japanese wizard, and it looks like the new guy is still struggling to fill old Dumbledore's shoes. Papa is struggling too, as he was appointed the new man's chief of staff. He is shorter than Maman, and older by quite a few years. An unlined, tanned face, with a thick head of gray hair and bright blue eyes. A trim body which he exercises religiously. Powerful, clever and possessed with a bit of hard-earned wisdom and grace that make him very special. Aside from his idiotic infatuation with Maman, which she encourages shamelessly, I trust him completely and worship the ground he walks on. Hopefully, my trust is fully corresponded.

He opens his arms when he sees me, and holds me in a warm embrace. "So good to see you, darling. Such a nice surprise."

"Thanks, Papa. It's good to see you too."

Maman comes up to him and gives him a peck on the lips. "Hello, love. Dinner is being served."

We move to the small dining room, where a table set for three, with a bread basket, three servings of a beautiful terrine de saumon and a bottle of white wine awaits us. With an old familiarity, Mama and I sit, while Papa tastes the wine and then serves it.

I taste my wine. "Ah! Superb."

"I'm glad you like it, darling." He tastes the saumon and nods his approval. Then, with a slight frown, he turns to me. "What prompted such nice surprise?"

"Nothing bad. I've finished my apprenticeship."

His eyebrows rise. "Really? That was very fast, wasn't it?"

I blush a little. "Oui."

A broad smile. "Well, congratulations, darling. You've been given some time off?"

"Just a week. I'm going to visit William tomorrow. He's been exploring an underwater cave near Mikonos." I make a small pause for emphasis and look into Papa's eyes with a dead serious expression.. "I had a bit of business to take care here, first."

He stiffens up. "What kind of business?"

"Delacour family business."

The frown returns and Maman perks up from her food. "Ah. We will speak after dinner."

I lower my head, in an informal bow. "That will be fine, Father."

The meal goes on a little stiffly, but the wine and the excellent food help us all relax a bit. After dinner Papa and I head to his study for cognac and our business. He serves me a half-inch of the honey-colored spirit, and twice as much for himself. I'm grateful, as I can feel the effects of the dinner's wine already. He sits behind his desk and gestures me to sit as well. Instead, I stand stiffly in front of his desk, without saying a word. It's best if he takes the initiative. He is clearly waiting for me to start, but a few seconds convince him that I will not do it.

"So, about this family business..." I nod, hoping he will continue. "What is it?"

"A certain item has been recently offered for sale through Gringotts. I have requested that a bid be placed on said item from the Delacour family. Your approval is required."

He looks at me, little wheels spinning on his head. "How much is the bid?"

"Thirty thousand galleons."

His eyes flash, and his lips curl up in a small smile. He gets up. "Just say nothing, darling." I nod. "You have come across information of potential interest to the family, in connection with this item, in the course of your work. Given your contract, you cannot say anything about it. You are neither irresponsible, nor a fool, so I'll assume this bid is of interest to the family. I'll go by Gringotts tomorrow morning and approve the bid."

My shoulders sag, and I go back breathing. I feel tears come, unbidden. A father's love is free, but a father's trust must be earned. And I recognize I've been a spoiled child at times. I give him a tight hug. "Thank you, Papa."

"In case the bid is successful, should the item in question be forwarded directly to you?"

"No. You should receive it and take whatever action you deem appropriate." The provenance follows with the item, and with the provenance, there is a clue for a centuries-old series of crimes that is still ongoing. Papa will spot it instantly once he receives it.

He gives me a look I haven't seen since the Tri-wizard Tournament. A mixture of respect and concern. "You be careful, darling."

I shrug. I'll be breaking Manor wards for a living. "I will be. Promise."

 **Harry**

The mediwitch is removing the last bandages from my shoulder when she comes in, pacing ahead of an elderly gentleman in healer's clothes. She is using a muggle ensemble, gray skirt below the knee, a white silk blouse under an open jacket and a red scarf around her neck. Also, a fancy looking black leather purse and black pumps. An elderly veela, long white hair braided and piled on top of her head in some complicated arrangement, held together by a pair of chopsticks. Deep blue eyes with a raptor's focus, a sharp blade of a nose and thin lips. The intensity of her manner mitigated by laughter lines at the corners of her eyes and mouth. "Tante Anais, I presume."

Her lips curl up a bit. "Healer Anais Osterle." She points at the fellow behind her. "And this is Healer Cuthbert Johanssen, Assistant Director of this butcher's shop." She gestures widely to accompany the insult to Britain's chief magical healing facility. Her voice is high and crisp, and she speaks with a slight colonial accent. The haughty manner reminds me quite a bit of Fleur. "And you must be Lord Potter."

Despite being in boxers, I bow to her and take her extended hand for an air kiss. Andromeda did train me a bit. "Harry, please." I turn to her companion and shake the extended hand. "Nice to meet you, Healer Johanssen."

"The pleasure is all mine, Lord Potter."

"You can call me Tante Anais, I suppose. My two favorite chicks have only good things to say about you.". As she looks at me I feel a stir of desire, and a slight probe on my occlumency shield. Allure and legillimency. The audacity of the old bird! I meet her eyes, pushing her probe out, quite roughly, and do a quick legillimency sweep of my own. I get the view of a wall of fire, and a suggestion of surprise.

I let some of my annoyance show. "Maybe I'll call you Healer Osterle, after all."

Anais blinks, shrugging off the sharp headache. She pulls in her allure and looks sheepish. "I'm sorry. I should have known better."

Too many years of dealing with a high handed old goat made me weary. "It's fine." I'll take her apology at face value for now.

Healer Johanssen feels a little left out. "I'm sorry. What happened?"

I turn to him. "A misunderstanding, that's all." I turn to the mediwitch, who had been fussing with my bed in the meantime. "I presume I'm all done here? I can leave?"

"Oh, yes Harry. But come back to see us anytime you need." She winks at me. She is a cute twenty-something with a big engagement ring in her finger. Why the hell is she flirting with me? I shake my head in disgust. "Thank you. I'll be out of your hair shortly."

"Take your time." She gives me a little wave and struts off. Nice backside view. After she leaves, I ask the other two to wait outside while I get decent.

When I leave the room, Healer Johanssen is speaking. "We can't offer you payment until next year, but..."

Anais touches his chest to interrupt him and turns to me. "St. Mungos is requesting my services for a few hours per week while I'm here. I can stay for a few months, maybe more, but since I'm in your service, I need to know whether you agree."

I think for a second, but it is obvious. Andromeda is just one patient. "Of course." I turn to the man. "Why can't St. Mungos pay her?"

"Our budget for this year runs out next week. We've been keeping a very tight belt since the war ended, but still expenses were too high." He takes a handkerchief from a pocket ad wipes his forehead. "Things are going to get rather difficult."

"How much?"

"What?"

"How much do you need until the end of the year?"

He stares at me, his eyes brightening. "Fifty thousand galleons bare minimum. Double that for a little breathing room."

"Kreacher."

He pops. "Master Black?"

"Go to Furclaw. Tell him to prepare funds transfer in the amount of fifty thousand galleons from the Harry vault to St. Mungos. I'll come by to sign it in a few minutes."

Kreacher bows and pops out.

Healer Johanssen bows. "In the name of St. Mungos, I thank you, Lord Potter."

I bow back and turn to Anais, who is smiling in silent approval. "Shall we go?" She nods. I look around, and from a side corridor, Braddock flies in, perching on my shoulder. He nips my earlobe.

"Beautiful bird, Harry." He caws and nods his head in agreement.

We both laugh. "A little full of himself, though." I add. "His name is Braddock."

"Very nice to meet you." She smooths the feathers on his neck, and he caws.

"He says it's always nice to meet a fellow bird."

She laughs softly as we walk out the door and head towards Diagon Alley. "He is quite right, you know. Veela may look human, but we really are magical birds. Phoenixes are our distant kin."

I shrug. "I like birds."

She speaks softly, talking to herself. "It seems that birds tend to like you too."

After stopping at Gringotts for the St. Mungos deposit and making arrangements to pay Anais for her services, we stop at Ollivander's. The place looks like it ever did, cramped and dusty, with magic bursting at the seams. Ollivander, up to his old antics, shows up from nowhere, speaking in a slow whisper.

"Lord Potter... eleven inches, holly with a phoenix feather core. A powerful wand. I told you you would do great things with it. And you, young Veela..."

She laughs. "Anais Osterle. Thirteen inches, pear with demiguise hair core. A Panwaert wand, great for subtle charms and healing."

"Can I touch it?"

She hesitates, and then shrugs. "Why not?"

Ollivander takes it, rolls it on his fingers and brings it to his face and appears to sniff it. He swings it around and casts " _Avis_ ". A fat dove appears and flies around our heads, looking apprehensive. Braddock flaps his wings and caws merrily, enjoying the show. The dove disappears as Ollivander returns the wand to Anais. A good wand, well-used and loved. Congratulations.

"Well, thank you sir."

"What brings you here?"

"I need a new wand." I place the remains of my old wand on his counter. The look of sadness in Ollivander's face surprises me.

"What happened?"

"It hasn't been a good match in a while. I was in a difficult situation and forced more magic through it than it could take."

Ollivander vanishes the remains and looks at me. "What about its brother?"

"Burned it next to my parents grave."

He nods gravelly. "Well done. What are you using now?"

I pull out Dolohov's wand. Ollivander recoils, with a look of distaste. "Is it working for you?"

"It serves. Battle spoils. But it is not comfortable."

He nods. "I suppose not. Let's try to find something."

During the next hour, I tried maybe thirty different wands. Most of them would do, but they were all poor matches, on the order of Dolohov's wand or worse. With the last failure, Ollivander sighs. "You have another wand, don't you? A family heirloom?" He draws the symbol of the Hallows with his finger in the air.

"I'm neither confirming nor denying that."

He nods. "I understand. That wand is a jealous tool. It may be blocking you from finding another match." He reaches for the door. "I'm afraid I cannot help you at this time, Lord Potter."

The Elder wand is a bloodthirsty menace. I've tried to destroy it twice, and the stupid thing appears again in my vault. I have no idea how Dumbledore used it for fifty years without going insane. Or maybe he did go insane, actually. The damned thing stays in my vault, unless I need a magical bazooka.

We leave Ollivander and I side-along Anais to the Tonks residence. Braddock decides to fly back on his own, which I reluctantly allow.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

It's a darkened hall, lit by torches with a large round table at its center. A single man, bald, with yellowish, parchment-like skin and wearing deep red robes, sits in one of the chairs. He is sipping from a golden chalice and seems to be deep in thought.. A tall male figure, his features obscured by a gray hood, approaches cautiously from an open doorway. His voice, a sibilant whisper. "Masster..."

"Welcome, Azoth. What news?"

"All runs smoothly, Masster, except for the Isles. The disruption caused by their Dark Lord's defeat perssists."

"What about our... suppliers?"

"Avery is still active. The lord died, as well as his heir, but a younger brother took over the family and its commitments. Fawler... the family fell into the hands of a younger daughter. She's been contacted. She was not aware of our arrangement, but she appears to be willing. However, I am told she is a foolish woman, and it may be rissky to use her."

"Perhaps we should place someone next to her. A little helping hand, if needed."

"Will you find someone, Masster?"

"Yes. I'll send someone directly. No need to concern yourself further. What about Malfoy?"

"The head of the house should be executed ssoon. The heir is imprisoned for the near future. The house is in the hands of the wife. She is Black by birth and the new head of that house..."

The sitting man raises his voice in annoyance. "I know who the current Lord Black is."

"We have no clue about how much she knows and what her position would be about continuing our arrangement. She is also very clever and resourceful. Approaching her directly might be foolhardy."

"It would be best to avoid it. We will close the Malfoy account."

Azoth bow deeply. "I will disspatch a team, Masster."

"Very well." The sitting man closes his eyes and seems to nap. After a few seconds he opens his eyes again. "You may see yourself out."

 **Harry**

The charm for conjuring colored bubbles is not taught at Hogwarts. But it should be. The incantation is just ' _bibus_ ', accompanied by a circle with the tip of the wand. Easy to cast, and it requires very little magic. However, the color, size, tensile strength, and even the durability and motion of the bubbles are all controlled by visualization and intent. So, playing with bubbles would be an excellent training exercise for young wizards and witches. It's not taught at Hogwarts, but magical parents all know the charm.

I'm sitting, crosslegged on the floor of the playroom, conjuring delicate bubbles of different colors. A laughing baby crawls around, popping the bubbles with his fingers, as he changes his hair color to match the bubbles, and an excited raven pecks at any bubbles lucky enough to escape.

It's been a couple of hours since Anais went to see Andromeda for the first time. I'm not doing very well. In another life, I'd be just brooding, or drinking myself into a stupor. Instead, I play with Teddy, and I cannot think of any other thing I'd rather be doing. After a while, Teddy's attention begins to wander so I add a twist. I conjure two bubbles at the same time, one red, one yellow. Teddy squeals and laughs harder, trotting after after one of them, while Braddock chases the other. After both bubbles have been popped, Teddy sits facing me, smiles, and makes his hair a mixture of red and yellow. He looks quite smug too.

I'm still laughing when Anais knocks softly on the open door. I search her face, looking for a clue for Andromeda's prospects. All I see is a soft smile directed at Teddy. I get up and walk to the door. Teddy complains about the interruption with a whiny vowel sound. Before he can get worked up, I turn around, twirl my wand in a wide circle and cast " _bibus_ ", pushing some magic into it. Hundreds of smaller colorful bubbles fill the room, and both Teddy and Braddock voice their delight. I call Braddock to me.

"Keep an eye on him, please."

"Caw."

I turn to Anais, seeing a broader smile. "Take a seat." I point at the living room sofa. We sit down. "So?"

She raises a hand. "You want to know about Mrs. Tonks. We'll get to that in a bit. But, first, how are you doing?"

There's kindness and a penetrating intelligence in her voice. I shrug. "I'm fine."

A touch of sharpness enters her tone. "You've killed four man less than thirty-six hours ago, including the most dangerous criminal in Europe. A hardened soldier would be placed on desk duty and therapy until cleared."

I answer in a dry tone. "I am a hardened soldier."

She flinches a bit. "A retired one. Right now you're a parent." By the looks of things, a damned good one, she thinks to herself.

I nod. "Still, you're not here for me..."

She interrupts. "No."

"What do you mean, 'no'?"

She crosses her arms under her breasts. "You called me to see Mrs. Tonks. Fleur called me to see you."

"I don't need a mind healer." A bald lie. But the need is not urgent anyways.

She tuts and shakes her head. "Oh, no. You will agree to be my patient. You will be honest and forthcoming and you will follow my suggestions. Either you agree now, or you take this up with Fleur."

I can't avoid a smile. "I see. It's you, or fireballs."

She smiles too. "So, you've met my grandniece..."

I sigh. "There's a lot of extremely dangerous secrets floating around my head."

She puffs. "Young man! I've been a mind healer for over eighty years. I've treated unspeakables from several magical governments and the ICW. I'm used to dark, scary secrets."

I stare at her, noticing the mix of pride, smarts and heart. A combination nearly identical to one I find very compelling in another veela. I use my occlumency to tamp down my conflicting emotions. At the end, I trust my instincts about people, and they are telling me to trust her. "I'll need a secrecy oath."

"It's redundant."

Poppy and Dumbledore taught me how elastic healer's oaths can be. I use one of the issues I can remember. "Healer's oaths allow discussion with other healers, for example. Not acceptable in this case."

She assents and pulls out her wand. "I, Healer Anais Juvel Osterle, swear by my magic to keep all information obtained from the treatment of Harry Potter in confidence, unless explicitly released by the patient himself, so mote it be." A slight flash from her wand seals the oath.

"Thank you. I formally consent to treatment."

She smiles. "So, back to the beginning. How are you doing?"

I try to answer honestly. "Not too bad. I'm not really bothered by killing people who are casting deadly curses at me. One of them didn't cast anything, and that bothers me. He was a marked death eater, though." I pause to breathe and mumble. "I'm pretty sure the nightmares will be back..."

"I'll give you a dreamless sleep potion for the next couple of nights."

"That should help." I think a little, and then add. "Playing with Teddy helps a lot too."

She smiles at that. "Even for muggles, caring for the innocent, like puppies or an infant, is known to be therapeutic for stress-related disorders. The parental bond adds a lot to the effect."

"Parental bond?"

"It's a magical connection between child and parent, usually established at birth. It dissipates slowly after the child's sexual maturity. Its manifestations vary a lot, but it usually includes increased magical compatibility, making both child and caregiver particularly enjoy each others physical proximity, aversion to physical separation for more than a few hours, and also alerting the caregiver in case the child becomes afraid or stressed. It's not common knowledge, because it's so prevalent that it is just considered the unremarkable norm. But if you compare the incidence of, say, child abandonment, child abuse or post-partum depression, for example, between muggles and magicals, you will see there's definitely something important at play."

"Thank you for explaining that." I look over my shoulder to the play room. "Do you think Teddy and I might have such a bond?"

"It's possible. There are meditation exercises you can use to confirm, even enhance the bond somewhat." She breathes in and seems to center herself. "Let's talk about Mrs. Tonks."

"Yes?"

"Physically, she is fine, aside from loss of muscle tone due to lack of exercise. She should, at the very least, go for a walk a couple of times a day."

"That makes sense. I think we can manage that."

"She should also have her wand back under supervision and do a little magic, maybe once a day. Simple transfiguration would be ideal. Draining and recharging your magic a little makes it more responsive to the demands of the body and the mind."

I can't avoid snickering. "Lazy magic. I see."

"Precisely. Some occupational therapy would be good too. Art, like painting, embroidery, music... Maybe even cooking, or washing dishes."

"She's a professional brewer."

"Do you have access to a potions lab?"

"Not here. Tomorrow we're moving to an old magical house with a lab in the basement."

"That might work. Within reason."

I nod. Anais is avoiding the main issue."What's wrong with her?"

"In one word, schizophrenia."

In one word, my worst fear. I take a deep breath. "Schizophrenia."

She sees the dismay in my face and waves her hands dismissively. "The outlook for a magical is not what it is for a muggle..."

I lift my head. "No?"

"No! Of course not! Mind and magic, young man." She lifts a finger. "Magic will put back together the fractured self of the schizophrenic. Unless it is blocked."

I nod, fascinated by her enthusiasm. "Blocked." I feel like an idiot student, repeating what she is saying. "What's blocking it?"

"Ah! That is the right question. What's blocking her magic? I don't know. There are many possibilities. I need to look into her mind."

"You mean, by legillimency?"

"Yes. But her shields... they are very strong. Dangerous even. That is unusual for a dissociative disorder. I must be very cautious. Cannot use forceful probing."

"She is a Black by blood and magic. The mind arts are a big part of the family legacy."

"You mean her occlumency shields are reinforced by family magic?"

"I'm not sure. They might be."

"Hmm. You have some training in the mind arts, don't you? I felt a naughty little probe at the hospital."

"Yes." No point in hiding it.

"And you're Head of house Black. If you're right, and her shields have a lot of House magic, you might be able to breeze through safely."

"But what would I do, then?"

"You, nothing. But there is a wonderful little potion. It allows me to piggyback on your awareness. You probe, I experience what you experience. I guide you where you must go, what you must do."

I shudder. "Possession?"

"Oh, no! You are in the pilot seat. You retain control. I'm the passenger... the navigator, I mean."

I get up and pace. Sounds reasonable, actually. As reasonable as things get, when magic is involved. I try to sound decisive. "All right, let's do it."

She laughs softly. "Not so fast. I need to brew the potion. A little trade secret. And I need to check your training." She lifts one eyebrow. "How good a legillimens are you?"

"My mind arts partner says I'm a sledgehammer. Lots of power, little control."

"That's good, actually. Control can be trained. Power... can't. How busy are you?"

"I'm supposed to go to the Ministry for hit-wizard training. Everyday."

"We work early in the morning, and at night. One week. Enough time to brew the potion. Then we see where we are with your control."

Sounds like a bloody hard week. But, truth be told, you can't buy professional training in the mind arts for any amount of gold. It would be worth doing even if Andromeda's health wasn't at stake. "That's fine. When do we start?"

Her smile turns predatory. "Tonight." I can't help smiling in return. Once more, unto the breach, I suppose.

 **Fleur**

I portkey in mid-afternoon. The Mimosa is anchored in a small, shallow bay, about a thousand feet from shore. A craggy shore, white and gray rock with a few small trees, hides the island behind it. A short stretch of sandy beach can be found to one side. The water is blue and deep, the sun is high on a cloudless sky with a fresh easterly breeze moderating the afternoon heat. A nice change from chill, drippy Britain.

There is nobody in the boat, so I decide to take a self-guided tour. It's a sixty-foot yacht, old and worn. Aside from living quarters for eight, and storage for boat stuff, there is a magically enlarged and reinforced work and storage space below decks. Dozens of empty storage crates, a couple of crates closed and sealed and half a dozen pieces on display. Mostly pottery, showing signs of faint enchantments, plus a couple of decorative pieces in silver and electrum. The prize of the collection is a short, serrated metal sword with some kind of curse on it. The metal is orichalcum, and the work looks dwarven. This makes the sword over two thousand year old and a truly remarkable find. I cast a couple of diagnostic spells, with dubious results, and I'm still puzzling whether the sword's curse is directed at the user or the target when I hear a faint pop and steps from upstairs.

I walk up noisily, and find myself facing a short, skinny woman with sharp eyes, and gray bun atop her head. I approach, hands behind my back. I break the silence. "Curse-breaker Weasley."

She replies in English, with a heavy accent. "Meara. I clean and cook."

"Pleased to meet you, Meara. Can I help?"

She points a thin finger at me. "Red's woman. Veela." I nod, figuring that 'Red' is a fair way to refer to my William. "You help."

We head to the small galley. She chooses a big stock pot and sets it on the fire, half-filling it with conjured water. "Kakavia." I know the dish. A greek bouillabaisse. Rougher than the Marseillaise version, but still very nice.

She pulls a bag from her apron pocket and expands it. She looks at me with suspicion and hands me two large gray fish. Seabass, I think. "Lavraki. Clean, chop." I'm being tested on my womanly skills. I take the fish from her hands and set myself to work on the dining room table. An easy pass, in this case.

A couple of hours later, there are a few loaves of bread in the oven, a large pot of kakavia is happily simmering, and we are old friends.

I hear noises from the deck outside and walk out. There's four of them, William, two other men and a woman. The moment I see them, William and the woman are helping a man out of the water, and the other men has his back to me. They are all wearing swimsuits and serious-looking toolbelts. The first one to see me is the bloke they are helping out of the water. He looks straight at me and frowns. "Oh, I say. Hello there."

The other three turn around. William is a little taken aback by the surprise. The woman shows a flash of distaste, rapidly covered by indifference, and the other man has the usual veela-struck vacant expression.

"'Ello." I give a little curtsie.

William seems to regain his voice, and goes straight from surprised to worried. "Fleur! What are you doing here? Is everything ok?"

They look dead tired and a little discouraged. The man just out of the water places a friendly hand on William's shoulder. "We'll go shower and give you a little privacy." He gives me another glance and a little smirk. "Leave the introductions to dinner, all right?"

After they leave, I turn to William. "You look awful."

He gives a sad smile and slides his hand across his head. It's a cute gesture he uses when he needs a little time to think. "It's been a rough week." He lifts his head and checks me out, a little smile appearing at the corner of his mouth. "You, on the other hand..."

"I know." I push my chest forward, highlighting my breasts. "I look fantastic." There's a little bit of sarcasm mixed in with the teasing. I don't approve getting abandoned.

He unbuckles his toolbelt and places it on a side bench. "What are you doing here? Did Silverjaw drop you?"

The smug satisfaction mixed in with concern makes me want to melt his stupid face right off his bones. He's made it clear. He wants me to quit cursebreaking and make babies. He expects it of me. Him and his loathsome mother. My tone turns icy. "Non. 'e promoted me. I'm a junior curse-breaker now." And five months faster than you, cochon stupide. A dusting of feathers appears on my neck.

The look and the sound of my anger makes him take a couple of steps back, both physically and mentally. "I-I-I'm sorry, Fleur! And congratulations. Really!"

His sincerity calms me down a little. I see no fear in him. It's a brave man that faces an angry Veela without fear. I see no desire either, which saddens me a bit. I count to ten, and then speak in a calmer tone, feathers gone. "I've been given a week off after my promotion, to rest and to prepare for my new assignment. I decided to come here to share ze news in person and to get laid. But something else came up, and we need to talk."

He frowns and stares pensively at me, parsing what I've just said. After a bit, he nods. "After dinner?"

"After dinner is fine."

When I come back to the dining room, Meara is packed and ready to leave. She places a hand in my shoulder and stretches to give me a kiss in the cheek. I take her thin, coarse hand in both of mine, look into her eyes and smile. "It was good to meet you. Antio sas."

"Antio sas, Fleur." She pauses a bit before apparating away. "Remember. Anemos Inn, Patmus Island." She points a thumb shorewards. "Good food."

I set a table for five, and open a bottle of a rough greek red found in a cabinet. The table is too small for the pot of Kakavia, so people will serve themselves. I cut a few slices of bread and place them in a basket at the table.

The first to come is the young man. He stands a few feet away, a little too allure-fogged to introduce himself. I take pity on the poor boy and introduce myself. "'ello. I'm Fleur Weasley."

He opens and closes his mouth a couple of times. "I-I..."

An amused voice comes from the door. "He is Markus Atrispopolou. Local talent and Meara's nephew." William's older teammate is short, thin, gray-haired and scarred. I notice two missing fingers in his left hand, which is unusual. He's a powerful wizard, not quite William's level, but close, and his air of amused competence reminds me a bit of Papa. "I am Francisco Etxeberri, Senior curse-breaker, Barcelona Gringotts, and head of this little troupe." He gives a shallow bow, formality broken with an amused grin."

I frown at him, as I reply with a deeper bow. "Fleur Weasley, Junior curse-breaker, London."

"Ah! Enchantee, madame." He guesses the source of my frown. "My grandmama was Veela too."

That explains his easy resistance to the allure. He gives me a good natured once-over."Bill is a lucky wizard."

I'm about to reply when William comes in, looking good enough to eat with his long hair loose and wet and a rough cotton white shirt. He towers over Francisco by a head. "Keep away from my wife, boss," he warns with joking menace. The witch of the team is next to him, a strong looking fireplug of a woman, looking impassive. "This is Willow Grasshopper, from the Quinault people. She's an underwater cave specialist.

I extend a hand to the witch, which she takes with obvious reluctance. I have no idea what is her problem. I think about confronting her, but politeness wins "It's good to meet you, Miss Grasshopper."

Her voice is a clear soprano, an interesting contrast with her sturdy build. "Likewise, Mrs. Weasley."

We arrange ourselves around the table, and for a minute, all you hear is the noise of cutlery on glass. Meara's nephew breaks the silence. "Hm. I never get tired of Aunt Meara's Kakavia."

William grunts. "It's just fish soup, Markus."

That, of course, annoys me. "It's excellent. Of course, Mr Weasley would have preferred it battered and swimming in fat. British barbarians!"

Francisco guffaws and slaps William's back. "I like her! And she is right on both counts. It's damn good, and dear Bill here has no taste."

I can't help needling him a bit more. "Spoiled by his mozzer's cooking. Dreadful!"

Now even Willow laughs, and William scowls. "Why exactly did I have to marry a French food snob?"

I put my nose in the air, and young Markus decides to get a piece of his own. "B-b-because s-she looks l-like a g-g-goddess?"

Willow slaps Markus on the back of the head, with a tiny smile and we all laugh, including William. "Well, thank you Markus. You are tres gentile. But I know for a fact William married me for my brains, not my looks. Isn't zat right, sweet'eart?"

William crosses his arms across his chest, while everyone looks at him. "There was her family fortune, too."

We all laugh again. Francisco looks at me. "A looker, witty, rich... one can forgive a few faults."

William adds. "Right. Like the ticklish temper and the fireballs."

Willow looks puzzled. "Fireballs?"

The others look at me and I explain. "I'm Veela. Fireballs are part of our magic."

She frowns. "I think I've heard of Veela. Some kind of femme-fatale?"

"A magical species, related to succubi and phoenixes. Bird in 'uman form."

"Ah!" She smiles. "I thought I sniffed something familiar when I saw you. You reminded me of Nat'chu'tic. Bird-people with a vulture form. Hard to kill and very dark."

William takes exception at that. "Veelas are not dark!" I can't avoid a smile at that, which he sees. "What?"

"It's an old silly debate, even among Veela. Succubi are dark. Phoenixes are light. We are some'ow related to both. Best guess, we are darkish-gray." I shrug. "Besides, what difference does it make?"

William stares at me with a puzzled expression, while the others nod. Willow stands up and bows. "I apologize for my rudeness, Mrs. Weasley."

"Apology accepted." I decide to change subjects. "What about zat sword? What an amazing find! Congratulations." I can see I said the wrong thing, as they all turn angry and sad.

William decides to issue an order. "Stay away from that accursed thing!"

Francisco sighs and places a placating hand on William's shoulder. "The apprentice attached to our team is in the hospital in Athens, with a good chance of losing her right arm. Because of that... object."

"What happened?"

Francisco shakes his head, sadly. "A near cave-in. She decided carry it out before risking its loss. Inexperience."

William growls. "Stupidity is more like it." He insists. "Just stay away from it, Fleur!"

I growl right back. "Do you think I'm stupide? That some'ow I deceived Master Silverjaw into promoting me? I know about cursed objects!" So far this visit has been a tense seesaw with William, and I had enough. I get up. "I'll be at ze beach. Meet me zere." I make a short bow towards the others and leave.

I set up the tent on a flat bit of sand, well above the tide line. It's a very modest one, one bedroom, a small bath and a living room, a small sofa, a table, two chairs and a very spare kitchen. I prepare tea and wait for William. He gets in, with a bothered look on his face. "Fleur, I'm sorry..."

I wave my hands and interrupt him. "Sit. Have some tea."

I sit in front of him and sip my tea. I look at his scarred, handsome face, and I can see he is tired and worried. My heart feels small and hurt. This is not going to be easy. "Look..."

I interrupt him again, with a sharp gesture. "Why did you marry me, William?"

He's taken aback by my question. A slow frown appears. We've never talked about 'our relationship'. He gathers himself to speak. "I loved you. I was in love with you."

I nod. "And 'ow do you know that? A teenage veela throws 'erself at you. Eet's 'ard to resist, isn't it? Easy to confuse things..."

"Of course I loved you. And I still do."

"Ah. I 'oped to see a leetle self-doubt. Eet's not an easy question." His face takes a stubborn look that reminds me of his mother. "You have always been good at saying the right things. I know there is a lot of truth to your words. I'm not easy to fool, but I may 'ave been a leetle naive."

"What are you saying, Fleur? Are you leaving me?"

"I'm just trying to get you to see something. To understand..."

"What?"

"I know you better now. You're a good wizard. Good heart. Brave, smart, ambitious, powerful. A little vain. A little insecure. A little thick at times. All things I can love, I have loved..."

"You're not perfect either."

I laugh, a little bitterness creeping in. "Perfect? I'm dangerous. My appearance and my magic are weapons. I know you like danger in your work. Do you want danger in your 'ome? Why did you leave, William? Why are you 'ere?"

"Eh..."

"Don't lie. I think you get tired of me. I'm too ambitious, too demanding. Even ze sex and ze prickle of my alure..." He lowers his head, a look of defeat. "You get tired, don't you?"

He looks at his feet, and I let him ponder. "Maybe." He lifts his head, and there is a little moisture in his eyes. "That doesn't mean I don't love you."

"It's very lonely when you're away."

"I know. You could have taken a lover."

I get a little angry. "Do you think eet's easy?" The only one that temps me is the wizard I would not, and I fear I could not seduce. "You should 'ave taken a mistress. A sweet girl with broad 'ips and cotton between ze ears to give you a few strapping Weasley sons. And keep you 'appy and comfortable in that cold 'orrible island!."

He stiffens. "I couldn't. It's not right."

"I wouldn't mind." I smile slowly. "But Molly would, right?"

Now he gets mad. "Leave my mother out of this!"

I know that was a mistake. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought her up."

He shrugs. "It's ok."

I breath deep and move for the kill. "I told you. I was coming here to tell you about my promotion, to fight with you and 'ave some wonderful make-up sex. But something else came up."

"What?"

I fish the bank parchment out of my bag and hand it to him. Like me, he is a professional, and spots it immediately. His shoulders sag. Fleur Isabelle Delacour. Not Weasley, Delacour. "So, it dissipated."

"Eet did."

"We can just do it again, and sign a marriage contract in France."

"You're missing ze point."

"What point?"

"You know eet. A magical vow is like any wand enchantment. Without a runic or blood anchor, eet is sustained by continuing intent." We had a marriage contract to sign that night. But we were not in a hurry to use a blood quill. Then the fuckers attacked and the contract disappeared in the confusion. And the war started.

"So you say we don't want to stay married."

"Not me. Magic."

I let him mull it. Ten minutes, fifteen. After that, he talks. "Continuing intent is a harsh standard to sustain in any marriage. Marriages require constant work. That's why we use anchors, so a moment's difficulty doesn't just cancel it."

"Running away when things get 'ard is not working on eet."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"What do you want, William?"

"I'm not ready to just let us go. I love you too much."

"I am not sure. I fear zis 'as been a mistake from ze start. Eet's not zat I don't love you, but I think we rushed things too much. Eet was ze stress, ze war..." And now I know. From my side, at least in part, it was to escape my veela side, and a skinny wizard-child with the world on his shoulders, deep hooks on my magic and no sign of any interest in me.

William, bless his sweet heart, is not one to give up easily. "Please, Fleur. I beg you. Give us another chance. Don't just toss everything away because of my weakness..."

"It should be easier. Staying with your wife shouldn't demand strength."

"Please, Fleur! I'll stop traveling. Give us just a few months."

I stop and think. What's a few months? My heart is heavy, but I'm not sure I want to face the rest of my life without William. I look into his eyes and smile a bit. He smiles in return. "All right. A few months. Boyfriend and girlfriend again. Zen we see."

"Thank you."

I get up and shed my clothing, heading for the bed. "Come and show me your thanks..."

No foreplay. I arch my back when he enters me. The pleasure is overwhelming. Veela need sex. Our magic demands it. A bone-deep hunger that just increases. After, lying on his strong arms, well-fucked, once quickly and then again slowly, I know it. There's something left. A part of my hunger William can no longer satisfy. I cry a little in the dark before oblivion takes me.

 **Harry**

I open my eyes to a white ceiling. A dull pain on my leg and a sharper one on my side. I look around and grab my glasses from the night stand. Last thing I remember is a duel on variable terrain, one against four. I had one down, and I was just about ready to overwhelm the shield of a second. Then a bunch of transfigured rats and a stunner from an unexpected direction. A mediwitch with hard eyes is standing next to my bed, reading a piece of parchment.

"How long?"

"Just a couple of hours. Cracked fibula, cutter on the side, mild concussion. You're all set, Mr. Potter."

Outside the room, Connie Hammer, head of DMLE and Algernon Croaker, head of the Dep of Mysteries are looking at the training report.

Connie asks. "What's the upshot?"

"Well... On the plus side, deep, deep reserves, incredibly fast reflexes, excellent situational awareness and fast, creative tactical thinking. He would pack quite a wallop too, if his wand wasn't poorly matched. He's beginning to use mind magic and wandless casting in combat. A little too dependent on strong emotion to power his spells. His casting speed and accuracy can stand improvement, as could his physical conditioning. He is uneducated. Spell mix is primary and his skills with battle transfiguration, both offensive and defensive, are primitive. He's a very dangerous fighter, but not overwhelmingly so. Right now, there's maybe four or five Ministry employees that could handle him one-on-one, if warned of his weaknesses and strengths. With training..."

"What?"

"In a year, and with a proper wand, he would beat the top four wands in the ministry working together. And magical maturity is a few years away. After that, who knows? Stronger and more dangerous than Moody, for sure."

"All right. Potential dark lord, then." Croaker nods. "Can we trust him?"

"My staff believes he is a force for good, but a bit of a loose canon. Almost no society loyalty but plenty of personal attachments. Actually, putting him in touch with Her Majesty was a brilliant idea. It appears they rather like one another."

"That was her idea. She approached the Minister and asked for a meeting."

"All right, what's our recommendation?"

"I'd say, train him, and keep observing. I'll sleep better at night with him around."

"I concur."

"Write it down. I'll brief Kingsley."

+O+O+O+O+O+

I look at the crystal skull and I feel it is mocking me. A powerful artifact. Frozen impressions of a thousand minds. Push too hard and the bloody thing kicks you out. Push too little, you go nowhere. Each mind has a secret, and the exercise is to find the mind and the secret. Pry the secret open. I'm looking for a dark wooden box with a silver feather inlay on top. The secret is what is inside. I breathe in deeply, center myself and cast. " _Legillimens_ "

I hold my mental picture of the box firmly in my minds as I feel the currents inside the skull. It's a million voices, and I'm searching the one that matches mine. I'm seeking, looking for the faint tug that shows the way. Each mind, a leaf in a giant tree. I open myself, letting go of my shields. A little tug here, another there. False tugs, other boxes, other feathers. I wander aimlessly, a seeker high above the playing field, following the game with half a mind while looking for a small glint of gold... Images, faces, snippets of songs. Half an hour, getting tired. An echo. It seems true. I follow, my awareness crossing through different mind-impressions. The right one draws near. A room, faces, always faces. And shapes. Breasts, bums, eyes... hands. A chest of drawers. Getting close. My mental picture seems to quiver with the proximity. Open the first drawer. No, the second one. There! At the bottom. Yes! Found it. Open the box...

Damn. A kick like a mule, straight to my frontal lobes. Pushed out, a splitting head ache. A minute of disorientation. I look at Anais with a growl of frustration.

"So?" She asks.

"Got a little rushed right at the end. It kicked me out."

"Ah. Not a glimpse? A suggestion?"

I bring back the my mental image of the very last fraction of a second. I frown and concentrate. Hesitantly. "I-It's empty?" I turn to Anais, tentative guess turning to certainty. "It was empty!"

A happy grin in her face. "Well done, Harry! Very well done indeed."

I massage my forehead. "Again?"

"Not tonight." She gives me a little flask with a light blue liquid. "Mild sleep and pain potion."

+O+O+O+O+O+

I wake up with movement and noise next to me. A warm, soft, small something, whimpering, trying to dig himself deeper between my arm and my side. I roll on my side and pick him up, hugging him to my chest. The whimpering becomes soft crying and I summon my glasses. Then a disgusting smell hits my nose. "Well, apparently someone needs a change."

Winky pops up next to me. "I can change him, Master Harry."

I shake my head. "I'll change him, sweety." I'm still too sleepy and her ears turn red. What can I say? She is a sweety. "Why was he in my bed?"

"Mistress Anaisse told me to place the little Master beside you after the last bottle. She said you wouldn't mind."

"It's fine, Winky. Just this time, all right?" The books say babies are supposed to sleep in their own bed. Of course, Anais trumps books, so I'd ask her later.

"Yes, Master."

"Can you prepare him a bottle?"

"Yes, Master." She bows and pops out.

I try to focus a bit, since things are arranged a little different now that we moved to Grimmauld Place. Teddy's nursery is across the hallway, a suite with two rooms and a large washroom. That's where I go, because by the feel of things, I have a little disaster in my hands.

And so it is. Stuff up his back, almost to his neck. I clean him up muggle style, using my wand just at the end, to disappear the resulting mess. A quick bath. A bit of fun, now that he's awake and ready to splash. Full moon is still a week away, so cranky Teddy is nowhere to be seen.

I sit on his nursing chair and hum, while he eats. Somehow, next I'm awakening on my bed again. I must have fallen asleep, and the elves sent me back to bed. I'm feeling rested, which suddenly worries me. I hunt for my wand and cast tempus. Eight twenty. No mind arts, and forty minutes to get to the Department of Mysteries. I'm gonna have to run. I jump out of bed. Once again, here we go.


	6. Chapter 6

AN: Thank you for reading, following, favoriting and specially the reviews. I don't own anything related to the Harry Potter franchise.

Chapter 6

 **Hermione**

From dead asleep to fully awake takes about three seconds. It feels like a loaded cement truck driving near your bedroom window. Even silenced, Ronald's snoring is... impressive. I have him in a loose hogtie, and last night's activities left welts in his legs and buttocks and a few scratches on his back and arms. I slide a nail down his shoulder. Nice strong arms, too.

I've been trying to follows Luna's advice, and ease up a bit on him. The relaxed look on his sleeping face suggests I've been successful, and the bubble of dark anger inside me suggests this may not be a good long term strategy. I need help. Thank Morgana, I'll be seeing Harry later today, and we can talk.

I take him in my mouth, swirling my tongue. The vibration of the muted snoring turns into a throaty moan. His standards of hygiene improved dramatically. He smells of some floral soap, with a bit of sweat. I think of Molly, as I work on him, and smile. Such a spoiled little brat... all he really needed was a bit of a firm hand and the right set of incentives to shape up. A gentle bite makes his back stiffen and a deeper swallow with a little handy help finishes him off nicely. His load goes smoothly down my throat, salty and a little bitter, a little magical protein appetizer.

I get up and undo his bindings. He sits on the bed, scratches his head and looks pleased. As well he should be. "Go to the tower to clean-up and change. I'll meet you at breakfast. Dress nicely." He searches for his clothes while I watch. I indulge, casting a little stinging hex at his buttocks. He yelps, turns back to me and smiles, while rubbing the affected spot. I feel a bubble of affection for the big lump, which together with the dark anger, really make my head spin.

After a nice long shower, I potion my hair into submission, tie it in a loose ponytail and add a bit of make-up. I also put on some nice muggle winter clothes. Tan, wool-lined calfskin boots, black leggings, a gray miniskirt, white turtleneck, A thick lilac v-neck sweater and a matching scarf. I could add an overcoat, but I will take looks over comfort and use warming charms as needed. I'm going out with Ronald, but I'm mostly showing up the stupid purebloods and fishing for Harry's appreciative smile.

We meet for breakfast. Ginny also went out of her way, wearing a green pullover that shows off her perky little assets and goes beautifully with her hair. Tight blue jeans, white trainers and expert make-up complete her ensemble. Our eyes meet and we exchange a nod and a smile.

Neville and Luna come in together, holding hands. That earns them a dirty look from Hannah Abbott and a few other girls. Neville has become very attractive, aside from being rich, sweet and not as shy as he used to be. Hannah dumped him a few weeks ago, I have no idea why, and the thing with Luna is brand new. I silently wish them luck.

Ronald comes in late, his hair still wet, but wearing his nicest robes, over what I presume is some decent muggle clothes. He sits next to me and inhales his breakfast, taking care to chew with his mouth closed, while everyone else finishes up and chats. The food disappears and the whole group moves together, heading out to Hogsmead. Daphne approaches me as we get close to the door. Before she says anything I lift a hand, palm outwards. "He's meeting us outside. I'll talk to him today." She nods and walks away without a word.

Ronald whispers in my ear. "What was that?"

"She wants to talk to Harry, and she needs help to make it happen."

Ron is still prejudiced against Slytherins, but fighting on our side wins her a little slack, even with him. He just frowns. "What does she want?"

"I don't know. House business, she says."

He scratches his head. "I don't know... what are you going to do?"

I huff. "Tell Harry about it and leave it to him."

He looks very uncomfortable. "Ehh.." My articulate boyfriend. "You know what? Forget it! What do I know about stupid House business anyways?"

I stretch on tiptoes and give him a peck on the lips. "That's the spirit." He looks confused for a moment, and then shrugs and smiles broadly. My reaction tells him he did something right, but he doesn't know what. Maybe, just maybe, he's growing up a bit.

Harry is waiting for us when the carriages arrive. He's a little underdressed for the Scottish late autumn weather, with gray slacks, black leather shoes, a white button shirt and a sleeveless pullover with Griffindor colors. His hair is the usual mess, and he looks tired. Ginny squeals and takes a run at him. From afar, we exchange a glance, and he checks me out, with a smile and a little approving nod. Then Ginny jumps him, arms around his neck and legs around his waist. They kiss passionately, Harry's hands on her bum, holding her up.

Everybody around is enjoying the inappropriate spectacle. Even Ronald is smiling, when the big brother thing wakes up and he frowns. "Hey!"

They break the kiss and Harry puts Ginny on the ground. They walk towards us. "Hey yourself, Ron."

Several hugs and handshakes follow, with Ron, Neville, Dean, Luna, Parvati, Padma, Justin, Anthony and Demelza. I stand back, just watching Harry's easy rapport with the DA veterans.

Finally he reaches me and I jump him in a brief hug. He smells of citric aftershave and old leather. He speaks so everyone hears. "Hey. Missed you, Big Head Girl."

I slap him in the shoulder, and he makes a little theater. "I've missed you too, dumb jock."

He steps back a bit and gives me a smile. "We're on for later?"

"Of course. After lunch, Sirius cave."

The group begins to break apart. Harry and Ginny stay back. I give Ronald my arm and we head to Scrivenshafts when a loud slap and a shrill scream are heard. "I hate you!"

We turn around in time to see Ginny running up the path to the castle, and Harry, hand on his face, watching her go. The sadness in Harry's face is nothing new, but it's something I sincerely hoped never to see again. Ronald murmurs "Bloody hell..." Before we can actually react, a soft pop and Harry apparates away to parts unknown.

"Ronald." He is still staring at his sister's backside. I raise my voice a bit. "Ronald!"

He shakes his head and looks at me. "What?"

"We should go after her."

He looks back up the hill. His sister is no longer visible. "She's fast."

"I have the map in my trunk. Let's go."

"What about..."

"He'll be fine for now. We can talk to him later."

"W-What do you think happened?"

I feel a stab of annoyance. "It looks like Harry ended things." At Ronald's frown I continue. "He wouldn't hurt her without a good reason."

He replies with his old sullen anger. "Of course you're going to take his side."

I stare at him, anger rising like an ice snake ready to strike. He notes my change in demeanor and flinches. I speak slowly. "Your sister is an ungrateful, spoiled brat."

He's still angry. "What?"

"And you are an idiot." I push a stiff finger into his chest and he shuffles back. "Your sister..." I stand rigid in front of him clench my fists until my nails draw blood. "Your sister owes him nothing less than her immortal soul!" I growl, and his anger turns to fear. My screaming turns to a whisper, as people's attention turns to us. "She doesn't deserve to lick his muddy boots, Ronald."

He looks ashamed. "She's still my sister."

My shoulders sag, and most of the anger drains away. "Fine. Go to her. And keep her away from me. I don't want to see either of your faces anytime soon... boyfriend."

+O+O+O+O+O+

I apparate outside the cave. It's a ten minute walk from the center of Hogsmeade, but it feels like another world. Scotland's hardscrabble landscape. Grass and thistle, gray naked rock, a couple of gnarled trees near the cave mouth. Weak sunlight on a cloudless sky and a chill wind drawing the warmth from your bones. He's inside the cave, sitting in a conjured a canvas chair, with another chair next to it and a tray with tea and scones between them. He greets me with a small, tired smile, and I feel my heart loosen up a bit. "Hi."

I sit and take a cup, sipping it slowly. Perfect. Earl Gray, no sugar and a drop of milk. He's always been good at such details. "Hi. Good tea."

"Well, thank you. So nice of you to drop by." His mock-Oxbridge accent is both funny and cute.

I reply in the same dry tone. "So, Lord Potter, please forgive my asking. What happened with Miss Weasley?"

"That's a long, sad story, my dear Miss Granger."

I sip my tea and smile. "I have nothing but time, mylord." I let escape a small giggle, and in a second, we're both laughing. We could never keep it up long. After we settle down I get back to the issues at hand. "You seem tired."

"I am. Hit wizard training, mind arts and an infant."

"You're reminding me of myself."

"I would too, but there are no books in there. It's all hard practice and lectures. Thank Merlin."

"So, they are actually teaching you how to fight? Talk about a day late..."

"Right. It's not just plain fighting, though. Small unit tactics, field healing, interrogation, wards,..."

I smile, with a little envy. "My..."

He shakes his head and interrupts me. "You wouldn't like it. Too rough-and-ready."

"But you're loving it."

"I guess..."

"Mind arts?"

"Something came up with Andromeda. I need better legillimency. Fast. So Anais is training me, basically increasing my sensitivity. And there is the problem."

"The problem."

He nods and grabs a scone. "I have my sensitivity set to wide open. I'm catching surface feelings and stray thoughts from everyone I cross my eyes with. Anais says I will integrate legillimency and occlumency later, and gain more control, but, right now, I'm just trying to avoid eye contact with people."

"So? Ginny?"

"I came to Hogsmead to make it official." He suddenly looks sad and worn. "You know. We've been snogging and we dated a couple of times, but we didn't talk about it. We were never big on talking..."

"Ginevra is a very physical girl." My contempt for the little tramp probably shows more then I intended. Harry lifts his head in surprise.

"Isn't she your best friend?"

I snort. "I have one friend."

He nods, and his lips curl up a bit. "That makes it easier. Anyways, I kiss her, put both my hands on her shoulders and look into her eyes, ready to ask her if she would be my girlfriend."

He makes a dramatic pause. Harry is a riveting storyteller and an awful tease. The pause stretches and my patience snaps. "And?"

He crosses his legs and nibbles his scone. "She has no natural defenses. None."

"What?" That doesn't sound possible.

"I suspect it's the possession by the Diary. They never took her to a healer, you know? Albus dissuaded them. Protecting his secrets for the greater good, the miserable wanker."

I nod. I despise the dead old goat almost as much as Harry does. "So, you mind raped her."

"Well... yeah."

I stare at him. He seems a little sorry. I decide to leave that issue aside for now. "What did you see?"

"Everything. She basically sucked me right in. Her plans, her dreams, her little secrets, everything."

"A happy ending with her prince Harry in her arms."

"That too. She finds me attractive. Straightlaced. A bit of an exhibitionist, what a surprise. Dislikes the mere idea of oral sex."

How can anyone not like oral sex? "So, what's the catch?"

"A lot of jealousy and anger.. Not a big surprise either"

I blink once, twice. "So?"

"She's a little angry at me for leaving Hogwarts and her. Mostly she hates Teddy and Andromeda for taking me away. Really, really jealous. She's angry at you too. She just hides it all."

I shake my head. "She sure had me fooled. I saw she was anxious and insecure. But hating your godson?."

"He will always be a big part of my life. I can't be serious about anyone who won't accept him. And no matter how much I'd enjoy it, I can't have a meaningless fling with Ginny."

"Too much baggage."

"That's right."

"How did you break it up? What did you say to her?"

"That we couldn't be together. That I am the wrong guy for her."

I snicker. "You're the worst liar. She certainly knew you weren't being straight with her." The slap sounds a little more justified now.

He shrugs. "The truth would have been worse."

"I'm not so sure. I don't mean you owning up to mind rape. You should have found a way to expose her true feeling for Teddy and then ended it. As it stands, she has no real closure. She won't just accept this."

He sighs. "I know."

I sit back and sip my tea, thinking about what he told me. "Out of curiosity, how did you get all of that from a probe?"

"It wasn't just a probe. We were stuck there for over a minute. " He looks sad. "I feel like such an idiot. I should have known better."

I get up and stand behind him, hands on his shoulders. "You're eighteen. You can be forgiven for thinking with the wrong head sometimes."

He gives a little barking laugh, turns around and grabs me by the waist, pulling me to his lap. "I'm actually kinda relieved. Like I dodged a bludgeoner."

"I suppose you did." I relax against his chest, enjoying the physical comfort. I want to ask him to check my mind. Maybe he could see what's been wrong with me. But I don't want to add to his burdens. Next time, I promise myself. Next time I see him. I recall my other promise. "Daphne Greengrass wants to talk to you. Family business." He gives me a puzzled look. "She asked politely. Maybe you should see her."

He frowns and smirks a bit. "I'm really bad at pureblood politics, Hermione. And Andromeda is not available to help."

"Just talk, Harry. Don't sign or promise anything."

He frowns. "You're underestimating the pitfalls."

"Maybe Neville or Susan could help you?"

"That's not a bad idea." He feels a little restless under me, so I get up and sit on my chair. Harry gets up and paces for a moment. "She could be a valuable ally. Would you mind running this by Susan? We can use Kreacher to exchange messages."

"Why Susan?"

"She's a little more ruthless than Neville." He pauses a bit. "Greengrass is scary."

"So are you."

He laughs a bit. "I'm not duelling her... isn't she the best student in our year, after you?"

"It's a toss-up between her and Padma. She's better at practicals than either one of us. Second only to you, as a matter of fact. Best brewer in our year, though."

"See? Scary smart..."

I smile. "Sexy too." I'm pretty sure I've seen a little fantasy or two featuring the ice-queen in Harry's fertile mind.

He also smiles. "Right."

I get up and grab him in a hug. Not a tight one. I also suffer a brain short circuit. I whisper in his ear. "Do you need a friendly shag?"

Harry stiffens up, steps back and looks me in the eyes. I feel his probe in my defenses, gentle and powerful at the same time, and I shudder. He sighs and speaks softly. "You're the one who said friend to lover is easy, and lover back to friend is hard. We've been doing fine so far."

I know I shouldn't have offered. It's unfair and selfish. I deflate a bit. "I'm sorry..."

He smiles. "Hey! I didn't say no."

I look into his eyes and smile back. "I guess you didn't."

"How about maybe later? We'll talk over the break."

"All right." I'm both embarrassed and glad. Who says I can't be stupidly impulsive? I'm a Gryf, after all. Harry is the one the hat wanted in Slytherin. I apparate back to the village, feeling a little lighter and I go hunt for Susan.

 **Fleur**

There's soft moaning behind the closed door. I knock, twice, and there's no reply. I open the door slowly and walk in. It's a very girly room. A canopy bed, stuffed animals and books on a large bookcase. Clothes everywhere. On her bedstand, three pictures. Our parents, with baby Elle in Papa's arms, The two of us, embracing the day before I left for my last year in school. And fourteen-year-old Harry Potter holding a golden egg and smiling. The smile doesn't reach his eyes.

She's curled up on top of the covers, back towards the door. I can't see it, but I know Toti, her plush elephant, is crushed against her chest. She stops her moaning. "Maman?"

"It's Fleur, Elle." I sit on the bed and touch her shoulder. "How is it going?"

"It hurts. Everywhere."

It's the Change. You seem to age six years in two weeks. I remember vividly. Growing two feet in two weeks was no picnic. Plus extreme mood swings, bouts of uncontrollable magic... I spent it in the infirmary, and nearly burned the place down. Now the Headmistress knows better. "The first week is the worse."

"I look like an ugly stick figure."

"First you get the height, then the curves. Don't worry."

She sighs. "It's is early. But I'm glad. I was tired of looking like a little girl."

I say nothing. Her life is going to change a lot. It's annoying to be fourteen and be treated like a little girl. But the looks, plus the out-of-control allure of a newly mature Veela take annoying to a completely different level. But then, Elle is liked, in a way that I wasn't. She's sweet, patient, generous and she loves being Veela. Maybe the change won't be so hard on her. I hope it won't. "I'm here for you, love."

"I know." She uncurls a bit and pats down the bed. "Please?"

"Sure." I lie next to her, and let her cuddle in my arms. It's so strange. She's so big. I feel her twitching as pain hits her. I can also feel her magic curling around. She's going to be a powerful Veela, like Maman.

We lay quiet for a while, and I feel her breathing slow down, like she has fallen asleep. But she hasn't. She tenses a bit as she whispers. "Fleur?"

"Yes?"

"There's going to be a ball for my birthday."

It's tradition for the first birthday after the Change. "I know." Two weeks after New Year. "Maman is already planning."

"Do you think I could invite Harry?"

I can't help it but smile. She wants to show off for her hero."Of course. I'll deliver the invitation myself."

She relaxes. "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

+O+O+O+O+O+

Behind the Chateau there is a small stone-paved patio, where we usually have breakfast over the summer. The hill falls steeply beyond it, so you get a broad view. To the west, vineyards, looking like an army of short crooked soldiers on parade this time of the year, and the production buildings. To the east, the woods, and the creek at a distance. There's a wall at the edge, with a smooth broad top. My favorite place to sit and brood.

Half an hour past sunset, it's still light. Wisps of high clouds, reds and blues and a chill wind sets my hair afloat. I hate rain, but I actually enjoy dry cold. A patter of steps behind me, and Maman sits next to me, keeping a little space between us. She sits quietly for a while, taking in the scenery. "You missed dinner."

"I'm sorry. I wasn't hungry."

A soft caress on my shoulder. "You're troubled, ma petite. Did anything happen in Greece?"

I shake my head. "Not really." Maman never really approved of William. The sad part is that I now begin to agree with her. But I'm not telling her that. "The visit went well."

"Then what is it?"

"My constant struggle. Veela and witch. And I'm worried about Elle."

She snickers. "Gabrielle will be fine. We are creatures of fire and air, ma petite. You favor fire, you need to burn your way. Like me, Gabrielle prefers air. Flow around to where she wants to go. Blaze and breeze, my two treasures."

I sigh. I have no use for her wisdom, but I still enjoy listening to it. "Still, they are not kind to us."

"Then we must be kind to ourselves, non? How about dessert? I think we have some mousse au chocolat left."

My stomach makes a very unladylike noise. Maman laughs, and then I do. "I guess I've been betrayed."

She calls a house elf, and soon I'm enjoying the velvety sweetness, as she sips some clear digestif. "When are you going back?"

"Tomorrow, after lunch. I'm taking the train."

She lifts an eyebrow in surprise. "The train?"

"Yes, the muggle train. It goes through a huge tunnel under the English Channel."

"Oh."

I make an exasperated gesture with my spoon. "It's fast, silent, comfortable and very civilized, Maman."

She looks doubtful. "Muggles can be very clever, I suppose. Is it safe?"

"Perfectly safe."

She nods. "I must tell Bastien. Maybe we can use this train next time we visit."

My turn to raise an eyebrow. "Any plans?"

"Maman is making noises. She misses her Anais." Grandmaman and Tante Anais are like many old Veela couples. Separate houses and nearly independent lives. But the passion between them is pure fire. They've been together since the Grindlewald war. They got pregnant at the same time, and, I suspect, by the same wizard. Tante Anais' baby was a boy, and she lost it early, as it happens with most such pregnancies. They raised Maman as a couple.

"Ah." I wonder for a moment how Harry and Tante Anais are getting along. Probably very well, knowing them both. I try to sound earnest. "Please come. I'd love to see you all before Yule."

"We'll see." She holds my hands on hers. Her hands are strong and rough from her craft, and feel very warm. "I know you're troubled, ma petite. If you won't talk to me, talk to Anais. Maman and I are Veela first, and witches a distant second. Anais is like you, a witch that happens do be Veela. She's found the balance which I think you are looking for."

I nod, mostly to avoid an argument. I don't like to talk about my personal problems. With anyone.

 **Harry**

The Gringotts owl arrived right after breakfast. The meeting with the Black family account manager was set for ten, no reason or subject given. The tone is deliberately insulting, but after leading the first successful break in ever, I more-or-less understand. I've been told they will probably be just as rude to my grandchildren. Still, it could be a very bad idea to skip it. I'm going to look for a quiet way to remove my business from Goblin's hands.

I'm wearing a dark Armani suit, with a green and white tie Andromeda gave me out of Ted's closet. A weak glamour alters my appearance a little, so I don't get bothered on the brief walk between the Leaky and Gringotts. To be entirely honest, I look better in muggle clothes.

I get there at ten sharp, and I'm directed to a meeting room, where I find Barchoke, the Black family account manager, sitting behind a large mahogany desk. He stands up and gives a shallow bow. I respond with a nod. "Account Manager Barchoke."

"Lord Black."

"Just Harry, please."

A noise like a rock scraping against another. "You may omit my title, Harry."

"What is the purpose of this meeting?"

"We must await the other party before getting into that." He pushes a parchment at me. "Please touch the parchment with the Black family ring."

I do as required, and the Black family shield appears, together with the numbers of the vaults connected with the Black family trust, and a brief content statement for each. As I run down the numbers I note there has been a large deposit in the main cash vault. I'm still checking the parchment when the door behind me opens and Narcissa Malfoy walks in.

She's wearing open sky blue robes over an elegant muggle ensemble. Peek-through black heels, an ankle-length dark grey skirt that hugs her figure, an ivory silk top and a gorgeous necklace of a silver salamander with ruby red eyes. Light make-up, bright red lipstick and nails and her hair half piled on a bun, half framing her face. Her hair is now plain black, like both her sisters, and she looks like a more delicate version of Andromeda, with sky blue eyes.

A very attractive witch, carefully made up. I'm almost certain the muggle-chic ensemble is for my benefit.

Barchoke bows deeper than he did for me. "Lady Malfoy."

She nods her head in response. "Account Manager Barchoke." and extends a delicate hand in my direction. "Lord Black."

I take her hand by the tips of her fingers and kiss the air above it. "Lady Malfoy." According to Andromeda, she's the least magically powerful, but also the smartest of the Black sisters. Andromeda is scary smart, which makes this witch... very dangerous.

We sit around the desk. Both Barchoke and Narcissa stare at me. I take a page from Albus playbook and just wait, trying to look wise. I probably need wrinkles and a beard for it to work properly. The spontaneous snicker that escapes me at this thought breaks the silent game. Narcissa speaks with a frosty tone. "I'm glad you're amused, my Lord."

I decide honesty might work best. "I was trying to play Dumbledore, but I guess I lack the gravitas."

Barchoke makes a grumbling noise and Narcissa replies in the same frosty tone. "Indeed." I can see the corners of her mouth twitch a bit, though.

This has to be Narcissa's meeting, so I turn to her. "I presume this is not a social call."

"No." She sits back on her chair and crosses her legs. A slow, deliberate motion, seductive and distracting. "I have terminated my marriage contract with Lucius yesterday. His criminal conviction triggered one of the divorce clauses. My dowry was returned to the Black vaults, together with substantial penalties."

I nod. "I've noticed it."

"His execution will allow the Ministry to seize most of the remaining House Malfoy assets." I just nod again. "Right before that, Malfoy Manor was attacked."

I sit up. Several possibilities go through my mind, mostly discarted. It takes unusual resources to attack an ancestral manor. A powerful enemy, or, most likely, a former partner. "File burning?"

She gives Harry a respectful nod. For the first time, it occurs to her Harry might be exactly what the House of Black needs. "I didn't feel the attempt to break the wards, as I don't control them. I woke up yesterday, around three in the morning, with people screaming. Two men, curse-breakers, I presume, caught by the wards. A rotting curse, courtesy of the Dark Lord. It took them three hours to die."

"He was no Lord. Call him Riddle."

She smiles. "Very well, my Lord. I have no information about the dead men. I made inquiries directly to Madam Hammer, but my questions were less than welcome."

Of course. Despite my vouching for her, she's still a well-known blood supremacist with close ties to several death eaters. Not a lot of good will at the Ministry. "House Black and its resources are at your disposal, Aunt Narcissa."

Her laughter is surprisingly coarse. Barchoke makes some amused rasping noises as well. "Andromeda taught you well, my Lord."

"You may call me Harry."

"Cissa." She stands up and looks at Barchoke. He nods. Slowly, she pulls her wand from a holster and points it up. "I, Narcissa Capella Black pledge my service, body, mind, magic and soul, to House Black, and to its Lord Harry James Potter-Black and his descendants, for life and unto death. So mote it be."

No flash yet. The oath requires my acceptance for completion. I look at Barchoke and receive a nod as well. I point my wand up. "I, Harry James Potter-Black, on behalf of House Black, of myself and my descendants, accept Narcissa Capella Black's oath and pledge to protect her and support her in a manner befitting a daughter of House Black, for life and unto death, so mote it be."

A bright silver mist envelops us briefly, and soon disappears.

I turn to the goblin. "Set up a trust vault for Narcissa Black. Start it with the original amount of her dowry, with an yearly deposit of ten thousand galleons. In addition, write a contract specifying suitable terms of service for her as a retainer for House Black."

Barchoke bows and gets up to leave. "Right away, Harry."

The door closes behind the goblin. "Thank you. You are very generous."

I answer in a dry tone. "I suspect you will earn every knut. Is Malfoy Manor safe?"

"No. The wards are damaged, and I don't have the knowledge or the access to repair them."

"You can stay at Grimmaulds place temporarily, if you wish."

"That would probably be best, Harry. Thank you again." She gets up and approaches me, sliding a finger down my arm. "Would you like to make full use of my services, Harry?"

I get up, very close to her, and look into her eyes. Her occlumency barrier is a featureless dark wall that gives nothing away. She's a beautiful woman, and her offer is tempting. But... even with her oath, she is dangerous and I'm vulnerable. Sleeping with her, as pleasant as that might be, would add complications I don't really need. Dumping Ginny, tabling Hermione's sweet offer and now this? "You tempt me, Aunt Cissa. More than I can say." I let my words linger a bit. "But no, thank you."

She takes a step back and smiles. "I understand." There's respect and a bit of regret in her voice.

I make a promise to myself. A club, a pretty muggle, a fancy hotel suite. I'm eighteen, hardworking, decent looking, unattached, rich and too proud to pay for it. Out-of-control legillimency makes it a little too easy, of course, but there is such a thing as excessive virtue. I'm no monk.

+O+O+O+O+O+

Sunlight from the nearly closed windows, and small noises. A whiff of fancy perfume, sweat and sex. I open my eyes. She is standing next to the balcony doors, dressed and ready to leave. Dark chocolate skin, eyes as black as night. An easy laughter, a generous mouth. Dancer's legs and a set of curves to die for. I frown. "Good morning..."

She giggles. "Allison. An excellent morning, James."

"What time is it?"

"A little past six." I stretch and yawn. I don't think we slept more than a couple of hours.

"It's early." I look around and find the phone at the bedstand. "Breakfast?"

"No, thank you." She saunters across the room, the little silver dress a nice contrast against her skin.

She opens the door and delivers her parting line like a movie diva. "My number is on the bedstand. Call me anytime."

Before I can think of an answer, she is gone.

AN: Dudtherman, You were right.


End file.
